


Youngsters

by redfoxblackfox



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 106,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfoxblackfox/pseuds/redfoxblackfox
Summary: For the kids at The Rooster Teeth care home, life hasn't always been easy. They've come from broken homes, broken families. They've escaped with broken bones and broken spirits. But at least now they have a second chance to be happy with a real family.Well...that's easier said than done when your family includes a hyperactive midget, an overeager wrestling fanatic and a boy who just can't go a day without punching something...or someone.*ON HIATUS*





	1. Chapter 1

_ "You’ll be fine. Teacher’s love you, golden boy." - Michael _

 

The clatter of plates, stomping of feet and scraping of chairs echoed around the large building almost with a tone of urgency. The walls and floors seemed to groan under the pressure and chaotic atmosphere that morning. Not one particular sound could be made out amongst the cacophony – they had all merged into one ear-piercing racket. Until of course the most powerful sound managed to break through, for none of the noises were as loud or jarring as the firm, authoritative voice belonging to one Burnie Burns.

“Boys! Boys, settle down!” he demanded as two small children barrelled past him, both aiming for the same chair and both unceremoniously missing as it was pulled out from underneath them by a much older boy who grinned with glee as they sprawled out across the polished wood floorboards.

Luckily for Burnie, his colleague – and one of his oldest friends – was there immediately to rectify the situation. 

Burnie nodded his silent thanks to Gus as the man promptly picked up the two and ushered the smaller, slender one into the original chair while calmly finding another one for the other. He also gave a stern warning glare to the eldest boy, who up until that point had been trying and failing to keep the smirk from his face.

As soon as Gus’s back had turned the teen in question glanced up at Burnie, smirk returning full force. Burnie just shook his head and turned away. He had school lunches to prepare – _God damn I know I should have done these last night or better still, made one of the other staff do it –_ and besides, he knew if he continued to look at the boy he wouldn’t be able to keep the smile off his face either. And what kind of example would he be setting then? 

Not that Geoff really needed much of an example to follow anymore, he thought. At seventeen he was as much of a man as Burnie himself was, or at least that’s what the teen tried to tell him when he wanted to extend his curfew so he could go to a friend’s party.

For a blissful few moments, it was relatively peaceful behind him. He wasn’t looking at them but judging by the noise level no more children had fallen on the floor or over a chair or out the window. Yet. It was only a single moment of calm however, in a storm of constant chaos and unpredictability that came with running a children’s home.

Fifteen years now, although back then they’d been a lot smaller and had only catered for a maximum of three kids at a time, unlike the hefty eleven they had right now - their current maximum capacity and therefore maximum mayhem inducing.

Case in point – at that precise moment, Burnie could pick out three conversations slash arguments that needed his attention.

“Hey, those were my waffles!” came an indignant cry to his left.

Meanwhile behind him at the large breakfast table there was another whinier, high pitched plea, this one directed at him. “Burnie, Michael keeps kicking me.”

And further down the room there came a perplexed question of: “Has anyone seen my bag? I could’a sworn it was down here last night.”

Ah yes, the first day back at school was always an eventful one to say the least. _But I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way._ He turned around and watched in horror as a jug of orange juice almost plummeted to it’s death on the floor. _Nope, I take that back. I would definitely prefer it if everyone could just eat their breakfast in peace!_

There was no rest for the weary though, and he quickly slipped into stern and not-to-be-messed-with Burnie like the old pro he was.

“Bruce, give Jack his waffles back, you put yours in _that_ _one_ – look they’re down now. And I’m sure Michael will stop, Jeremy, unless he wants to _skip_ breakfast.” He said, giving the curly haired boy a pointed look and receiving a purposefully blank expression in return.

Sighing, he called out across the large room. “And I moved it into the hall, James, after I tripped over if for a _third_ time.” He walked over to where James had taken his seat and gripped both of the boy’s shoulders, giving them a playful shake. “Let me remind you again young man to keep your stuff in your room or at least out of the way of everyone else – thank you in advance.”

The young boy beamed up at him, looking positively angelic. “Thanks, Burnie. Sorry, Burnie. 

Burnie just shook his head fondly. He knew the boy could be anything but angelic, but it was almost impossible to stay frustrated at him.

Placing the last few lunches in the assortment of bags, he took another glance around the room, counting the faces there. Everyone accounted for bar one, he surmised. That wasn’t really surprising.

His phone suddenly vibrated and he cursed under his breath as he read the accompanying message. Great, that was all he needed today. Barbara and Trevor - his two junior carers - were stuck in traffic which meant it’d be up to him and Gus to ferry the kids to school, which also meant leaving earlier than planned if they wanted to make it in time with only two minivans. Usually the kids would walk the two minutes to the bus stop but for some godawful reason unbeknownst to him, the buses weren’t running for the first week of term. Burnie had long ago decided he must be cursed.

Taking a deep breath, he bellowed out to everyone. “Right, breakfast time’s just been halved! Eat quickly because you _will not_ be taking food in the cars! Not after what happened last time.”

 

––––

 

Gavin involuntarily shivered after Burnie’s final line. He and everyone else - well, except for maybe Elyse  –  knew exactly what he was referring to. To cut a long and quite frankly disgusting and traumatic story short, Jeremy plus food plus cars did not equal anything remotely close to fun.

Looking at his still mostly full plate of food, he hesitantly forked in a large mouthful, a rather stupidly large mouthful as he immediately felt nauseous. Even though he’d lived at the home for nearly a whole year, he’d never succeeded in having as big an appetite as the others. That’s why he still had to go for stupid check ups every now and then. They were dumb. The doctor gave him a checklist each time so he could tick off food that he had eaten. Gavin always felt like telling him not everybody could have appetite’s like Jeremy but his natural politeness and nervousness discouraged that. 

The thought made him frown a little and suddenly there was an elbow jabbing gently into his side. 

“You nervous?” the brown eyed, curly haired boy next to him asked. Aka eight year old Michael Jones. Aka his best friend.

“A little,” Gavin admitted quietly, still trying to swallow the remainder of food. Michael must have mistaken his frown for worry about their first day back at school after the summer break, which come to think of he _was_ a little apprehensive about.

Michael gave him another shoulder nudge. “Don’t worry about it, you enjoyed last year, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “My teacher was nice.”

Michael nodded in firm agreement. “Miss Banbury’s nice too, a buddy of mine had her last year, she’s cool,” he reassured the younger boy. “You’ll be fine. Teacher’s love you, golden boy.” He gave Gavin a large smile.

Gavin couldn’t help but smile back. Michael’s never ending assurance was always a comfort to him, when still so much of life often filled him with fear and caution.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine kid,” another voice added from across the table – the one that belonged to his competition for a chair that morning. “And if anyone gives you any trouble, just give me a holler. I’ll show ‘em what’s what.”

“See Gavvy?” Michael said. “Old Kovic’s got your back.”

Gavin gave the older boy a grateful smile. Adam was going to be in sixth grade now, so he was one of the oldest in their school. Also he was tall and strong. Gavin had no doubt that he would be able to keep his word if push came to shove, quite literally.

“How about you James?” Gus asked, joining in on the overheard conversation. “First day of middle school’s exciting, right?”

“I guess,” the blue eyed boy shrugged. “It’s school. We’ll do school stuff.” He was never one to care too much about it and get all nervous over first day’s - he never took things seriously enough, that’s what Burnie always said. The best part of school for him was hanging out with his friends. And sports. Sports were pretty awesome according to him.

“You’re not worried then?” Elyse queried.

James shrugged once again at the blonde girl’s question. “Eh, it won’t be that much different to last year. Most of my buddies will be with me. Only thing is we’re now the small ones instead of the tall ones.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jeremy groaned audibly causing everyone to laugh. The youngest might have been many things; hyper, loud, appetite to envy a lion’s, but one thing he definitely lacked was height. 

Anyway, he was only in kindergarten this year. Gavin doubted that height would be a massive factor when it came to finding new friends, especially when you were as friendly as Jeremy.

More laughter and chatter rang around the breakfast table as kids and teens rushed to stuff as much food in their mouths as was humanly possible before Burnie would be giving them their marching orders. 

Gavin for his part had kind of given up. His stomach ached and he still felt a bit nauseous. Him and eating food quickly never went well, especially early in the morning. Honestly, before he’d come to the home he’d never even had the option to eat that much _at_ _all._ Except for that one week when… He forcefully paused the memory. It would do no good to throw up on the table now.

He was about to make his excuses to go to the bathroom to try and calm himself down when a sudden presence behind him had him stiffening. A shadow cascading in front of him as he caught the form moving in his peripheral vision.

Gavin swivelled his head to see their second newest arrival standing there in silence, looking as menacingly unfriendly as ever. Oh Gavin really hoped things weren’t going to kick off again.

With that boy though, it was always a gamble. Lawrence was only eleven, the same age as James, and yet to Gavin he seemed so much older.

He’d barely spoken to Gavin, except to push past him and call him a ‘fucking midget’. That wasn’t very nice. The older boy was only a little taller, only standing slightly higher than Michael who himself was barely taller than Gavin; if anything _he_ was the small one. But Gavin’s downfall was he was skinny, whereas Lawrence looked like he could go through a few rounds in the ring against Geoff and come out relatively unscathed. Gavin wouldn’t be surprised if that actually happened with the amount the boy got on everyone’s nerves.

The older boy had still yet to say anything but the way he was eyeing Gavin was starting to creep him out. No one else had paid the new arrival much attention thus far, the older boy sticking close to the wall. But then suddenly he had taken a step forward and his hand was reaching out, and Gavin instinctively flinched from the fist coming towards him. 

But no contact was made, the boy’s hand going straight past him to grab the remaining waffle on his plate, so quickly Gavin almost missed it, before he swiftly turned and left, roughly shoving in Gavin’s slightly stuck out chair as he went.

The young boy swallowed. _Well, that could have gone a lot worse_ , he supposed. At least Burnie and Gus wouldn’t complain about him not eating enough or wasting food. But nevertheless, that was still _rude_ he thought. You didn’t just snatch food off people’s plates without saying anything!

The thief had nearly made his way back out of the room but hesitated when Burnie asked: “Hey Lawrence, you gonna be joining us?”

Lawrence shook his head, keeping his eyes lowered. Gavin didn’t miss the way he’d immediately tensed up, like he was ready for a fight. He’d seen Michael act the same way when he got into a shouting match with another kid at school. Except there was no one shouting now, at least not angrily – in fact, Burnie sounded a lot gentler right then than he usually was in the morning – so he didn’t quite understand it.

“I’m good,” was the only response Lawrence offered, keeping his one hand and food – _Gavin’s_ food – behind his back. Gavin narrowed his eyes but still didn’t say anything. He knew better than to anger people who were older and stronger than him. He’d learnt that the long, hard way.

Burnie gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright…you sorted? Everything ready?”

Sighing, the boy simply held up his school bag in the most nonchalant way ever, with an expression that read “ _are we done here_?”.

Taking in the unspoken message, Burnie just gave him the thumbs up. “Okay, we’ll try not to be too late,” he said, even though the eleven year old had sauntered out after the first word left his mouth.

Next to him Michael was shaking his head. Gavin knew that his best friend didn’t think much of the newcomer. Michael may have been feisty at times, but rudeness and disrespect were things he simply could not stand. The older boy turned to him with a “ _what can you do?”_ expression but his frown deepened when he took in Gavin’s plate and connected the dots. “Wait, did he – motherfucker!” The eight year old cried out, slamming his fist down on the table in anger and making the nearby glasses shake precariously.  


“Michael!” Burnie reprimanded instantly. The others had gone silent. They were all used to Michael cursing occasionally, and none of them had had what you would call sheltered childhoods so it was nothing new. But when Michael sounded _that_ angry, they knew they should probably take an interest.

Michael stood up, pointing a finger at the door, looking Burnie dead in the eye. “He just took–”

“Michael,” Burnie said again, quieter this time, but he made the gesture across his throat which they all knew meant “cut it”. 

“But–” Michael began again, although this time sounding more confused than mad. 

Burnie walked over and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Michael, leave it,” he said once again. “I know what he did was wrong but now’s not the time. I promise I’ll talk to him later.” He bent down so he was eye level. “I promise,” he reiterated. That was important. Michael took all promises very seriously and found it hard to trust a lot of people to keep them. Burnie was one of those few people though. As he was to all of them. They trusted him.

And so Michael let it go, despite how much Gavin knew his friend probably wanted to go after the older boy and tear into him. He was protective in that way, especially over Gavin. “He’s an asshole,” Michael whispered into his ear. “Just be grateful we’re not going to school with _him_.”

Gavin nodded in agreement. He understood just too well how scary it could be joining their home. He’d been terrified to speak to anyone for weeks but Michael had kind of just not let him be alone, and eventually he’d finally felt confident enough to utter those first few words. Those words being, “Don’t do that!”, when the slightly older boy decided he wanted to eat a live beetle he’d found in his room he shared with Jeremy.

“Not my fault the sucker entered my territory!” Michael had replied. But he’d laughed it off and let the beetle outside. Gavin sometimes wondered if the whole thing had been a ploy to get him to speak up, knowing his love of animals. Anyway, ever since then, they’d been thick as thieves and close as brothers. 

Lawrence was different though. He didn’t _seem_ scared. He _was_ the scary one. Gavin had been playing on the Xbox with Michael, Bruce and James when they’d seen him arrive a month prior. Or rather heard him. Been dragged in kicking and screaming like he was being brought for slaughter. It had taken three grown adults to bring him in, and once they had he immediately broke a lamp by shoving over the desk it was sitting on. At least that act of destruction had calmed him from that particular episode but it wasn’t like he’d been any better since.

No. Gavin liked to think he could read people pretty well. There had been some days in the past when all he had done was watch people without saying a word. Sometimes even weeks. And so Gavin could tell there was something just… _off_ about the boy. But what it was he couldn’t quite place. Or perhaps it was some sort of thing he hadn’t heard of yet. Like insomnia – he hadn’t known about that until recently. Ryan had that and it made him grumpy at times.

On the other hand, at least Elyse was nice. Like stupidly nice. Like, he didn’t know people could be that lovely until he’d met Elyse. She’d only been with them for two weeks but she already felt like one of the gang, and considering this was her first foster home and it was one full of boys, she handled it remarkably well.

He didn’t know why she was in care – he didn’t think anyone did apart from the actual carers and maybe Geoff – but there was an unspoken rule that you didn’t ask. They all knew how awkward it could be trying to explain. I mean, what did you say to that?

_My parents hurt me?_

_My parents died?_

_My parents didn’t care about me?_  

Or simply. _I don’t know._  

There was no easy answer and they each respected that. Gavin himself, only knew about half of the true stories as to why the others were here. The rest were only small and brief answers, a brief slither of the horrific truth.

But no matter what they were here for, they’d made the best of it, and he knew very well that he was lucky they had such a good home with a bunch of genuinely good-hearted kids and carers.

Elyse fit right in with them. Despite whatever she had been through before, she was trying her best and in return they had welcomed her. Just like Gavin had done in the past. And Michael before him. Even Geoff at one point.

_You get what you give, right?_ he thought. It was simple, really.

 

––––

 

Burnie ran a hand through his hair as he walked back inside. He decided that the more stressful his life got, the more frazzled his hair got and that morning was definitely on the upper end of stress. _And that’s why I wear hats,_ he thought, as he grabbed a nearby one and placed it on his head.

He’d gone out when he’d heard the front door slam and wanted to make sure Lawrence hadn’t run off. The boy had yet to run away so far, but judging by his files that had been a regular occurrence at his previous seven or eight homes. Luckily for him– and his hair – the boy had merely been skulking in the corner of the driveway, eating the remainder of Gavin’s food. He could have possibly been smoking too – but that was another issue Burnie would have to touch upon later, less he wanted another battle with the boy.

Burnie had seen the waffle theft happen – not much got past his experienced eyes – and it was that experience that had taught him when to pick his battles. He would of course address it like he had promised Michael, but not right at that moment. At least he knew Gavin wasn’t going hungry because of it. Despite the progress that had been made, that boy still got full from a candy bar.

He groaned inwardly as he heard the clatter of plates being put into the dishwasher. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of picking battles with Lawrence around, more so than usual with new kids.

The young boy wasn’t really meant to be with them. He’d been headed to another home - a youth detention center actually, or juvie as they were more commonly known. A facility with more security and strict rules and less emphasis on the caring side of things. Burnie didn’t approve of every way the centers conducted themselves, but he didn’t necessarily disapprove either. Some kids were just too much of a danger to themselves and others to be housed in a more “normal” home.

Someone had taken pity on the eleven year old however. Maybe because the place he’d been headed to had been overcrowded to the brim with boys who were generally older than him. Maybe it was because Burnie and the others had taken in so called “problem children” and special cases before. Maybe it was because they thought he deserved yet a _twelfth_ chance.

The foster home Burnie had become the head of eight years ago was one of the top in the state. They were a private care home. Financially funded by a company set up nearly thirty years ago by a friend of Burnie’s father.

Fresh out of college and with limited knowledge on what he wanted to do, Burnie had begun working at the home during the weekends. He had quickly found the work to be challenging, exhausting and at times downright depressing, but he also found that there was something so, so rewarding about it.

Over time those weekends had turned into week days, and then seven days a week. He’d done day shifts, night shifts, he’d undertaken more training and moved into more senior positions as more staff had been hired for the enlarging building. And then one day, he’d found himself taking over from the former manager – or as the kids fondly called them – the big dog.

So now here he was. The big dog in the chaos house. The building itself was near perfect. Large and open and airy, with plenty of light and space for the kids to let off steam. There was a garden at the back large enough to hold a small concert and in a quiet and safe enough neighbourhood that they didn’t have to worry too much about the kids wandering off site.

A couple hundred years ago the area might have been completely rural. But with a busy city a twenty minute drive away, houses had popped up over the decades. You went back far enough and you could find out that the building had once been a hunting lodge, back when it was twenty times smaller.

That’s where the original and official name had come from. It had been the The Rooster Lodge Home until about eight years ago on April Fool's Day, when one of the kids (almost certainly Geoff) had climbed up and stuck a pair of mechanical teeth on the weathervane that still perched on the roof – the only remainder of a history long since lost. And so then naturally it had been The Rooster Teeth Lodge Home. Somewhere along the line the ‘Lodge’ had been dropped – both to shorten the name and due to the fact that the building hadn’t been a lodge for a very long time and no longer resembled one. So Rooster Teeth it was. The Rooster Teeth Home.

His home.

There was more clattering and then footsteps as some of the kids emerged into the hall and dived for their bags.

Burnie allowed himself to smile. _Okay then, okay, we’re finally getting somewhere._  

Then there was an incredibly loud _smash!_

“Oh for– what was that?” he called out.

Of course the two replies he got were. “Nothing!” and “Bruce did it!”

Typical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I've had this idea buzzing around in my head for a while now and decided to eventually try and put it down in words. Easier said than done! Hoping to update weekly, probably posting every Monday with any luck. Anyway, thanks to anyone who's given it a read.


	2. Chapter 2

_ "Stole shit, broke shit, said shitty stuff about everybody and their mother." - Geoff _

 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Jeremy.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“ _Jeremy_.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Jeremy!”

… Thud.

Adam leaned over, grabbing the little boy’s leg. “Jeremy stop it, you’re distracting Burnie.”

“Why aren’t we going faster?” Jeremy asked, scowling.

“Because the traffic is really bad.”

The little boy’s face dropped even further. “But I’m gonna be late and then I have to go straight inside and won’t be able to play with my friends before class when we have to write that holiday thingy!”

“Sorry kiddo,” Burnie said. “We’ve well and truly hit rush hour. At least we managed to drop the others off first.” He paused. “Holiday thingy? Writing about what you did over the summer huh? I remember getting a call from Geoff’s teacher about that years ago because he’d asked her how to spell car-jacking.”

The kids all laughed except for Jeremy, who was both too young to understand what that meant and in too much of a sulky mood to be listening anyway.

It was just the youngest five left in a van that had been previously filled to bursting. Having dropped off James, Lawrence and Jack fifteen minutes earlier, they had more space but the traffic had increased significantly. For example the elementary school was usually only a five minute drive away, and yet here they were, only about half way there fifteen minutes later.

Elyse had been quiet most of the way. Scared was an understatement for how she was feeling but she had been doing her best to keep it under wraps. She had a feeling she had a buddy in Gavin for that one, who - as Jeremy had put it earlier - “Gavvy, you look all grey! Like you’ve been shaded in with a pencil.”

The youngest never failed to make her laugh. He reminded her a lot of her younger brother in some ways, always stating whatever came into his mind. God, she missed her brothers and sisters so much. She had contact with them once a week but the gap between those meet ups felt like a life time.

Last time hadn’t gone well at all either. Her eldest brother - still angry over everything that had happened to them - had done nothing but cause trouble for the social workers, which meant their time had been cut short.

Elyse could understand that anger. One moment they’d all been living as one family, the next, ripped apart from each other and shoved into separate homes.

Her home was a good one, she was relieved for that, and it was why she tried her best to keep her emotions under check. She didn’t want to come across as ungrateful or demanding to the people who welcomed her in. No, she would do her best to be happy and positive Elyse at all times.

Her nose wrinkled as an unpleasant smell wafted though the air. Oh, but _boys_. Why had the only bed available been in a home only with _boys_?

“Aww Jeremy! That stinks!” Michael cried out, leaning out of the window, dramatically coughing and spluttering.

“It wasn’t me!”

“That is _so_ one of yours!” Adam cried out, covering his mouth and nose his hand.

“It wasn’t!”

“Don’t lie!” added Gavin into the mix, between his gagging.

Jeremy wriggled in his car seat in indignation. “If you’re going to talk to me about lying, there are no wolves around here. We’re in the middle of town, don’t forget.”

Elyse laughed again, having rolled down her own window to breathe in fresh air. Yep, so much like her little brother. She would have to tell him about Jeremy when she next saw him. Hopefully their next visit wouldn’t be as bad as the last one and they could just act more like they used to; but then again in a situation like theirs - and any kid in care - nothing was ever guaranteed.

 

––––

 

As the black minivan started to move again slowly after yet another stop on the jam-packed road, Bruce sat with his head against the window, watching the buildings and trees and cars roll past him while also vaguely aware of his own reflection staring back at him. His mind was all over the place and he couldn’t quite force his stomach to settle the nerves that came hand in hand with starting high school.

At least they did for him. Ryan and Geoff had seemed as confident as ever going into their freshman year, if Bruce recalled correctly. All relaxed smiles and easy going swagger. Bruce knew he wasn’t like that – he was always too eager to please. That’s why he and Jack got along so well, Ryan always referred to them as a pair of over friendly puppy dogs.

That was partly why he wasn’t feeling as happy-go-lucky as was the norm for him. Jack had been his buddy from the beginning. The younger boy had only arrived at the home six weeks after Bruce had, and the two young boys had both taken solace in the fact that they’d recently lost loved ones. For Bruce it had been his grandmother, and for Jack, well the kid had lost his whole family. Jack had cried a lot back then, almost constantly, and Bruce being Bruce went out of his way to comfort him – hating to see another in pain.

Bruce remembered one night in particular, maybe less than a week after Jack had arrived, when he’d awoken from his sleep for no apparent reason, other than general restlessness. Tip-toeing down the hallway to get a drink from the bathroom, he had paused outside the room next to his, leaning in to place his ear against the door to better listen to the sounds that had caught his attention.

Crying. Muted and muffled but crying all the same. And with Bruce being Bruce – it wasn’t in his nature to simply walk away.

Slowly opening the door, the light from the hallway had flooded a section of the room, revealing the huddled form of the boy on the bed, mostly hidden under his duvet. A pair of brown eyes had peeped out as Bruce approached, red rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

Jack was silent as Bruce crouched down next to him, bottom lip quivering slightly.

_“Hey,”_ Bruce had whispered. Brown eyes blinked at him. _“You wanna drink of water?”_ he had asked, because he knew asking if everything was alright would be pointless. Of course not everything was alright.

Jack had nodded and Bruce had left for a few moments to fill up two glasses. One for him and one for Jack. He placed them both on the bedside table before perching on the edge of the mattress. Jack shifted slightly to make more room, still keeping the duvet covering his head.

Bruce was silent for a while. He felt he had to say something but he didn’t know what. He wished he knew the magic words to make things better, for both of them, but it wasn’t as easy as that.

“ _I know this is scary…”_ he had started hesitantly, meeting Jack’s still teary gaze. _“I’m scared too…”_ He sighed, swallowing back the own lump that was forming in his throat. _“And I know you’ve lost people.”_

He smiled a little and moved a bit closer to the other boy. _“I lost my grandma and there’s not a day go by when I don’t feel sad because of it.”_ He paused, remembering the woman’s smile and laughter, as clear as if she were right beside him.

_“But it’s okay to be sad,”_ he continued, voice more confident. _“It just means you loved them a lot and they loved you a lot and you miss them… Grandma always told me to make the most of every day and I think I’d make her upset if I just cried every day because she’s gone.”_ He smiled a little wider. _“So I’m gonna try. I’m gonna be happy so she can be happy when she watches down from up there. I’m sure your family would want you to be happy too.”_

He had stopped abruptly, worried that he’d said too much. Jack was still just staring at him but then after a few more moments of silence, he had sniffed and raised his fists to rub at his eyes. “ _Yeah,”_ he had said quietly. _“Yeah they would. We used to laugh a lot. Always…just, laughing.”_

Bruce nodded in understanding. He wondered if he should leave but couldn’t bring himself to go just yet. And then an idea came racing into his head so fast that he didn’t have the reaction time to put the brakes on before he was blurting it out. _“Well let’s try laughing. What jokes do you know? Maybe we can make them laugh.”_

Regret. Immediate regret. Jack had been crying his heart out only minutes before and here was Bruce suggesting they have a bit of good old fashioned banter. Bruce did his best impression of a fish, mouth opening and closing, eyes wide, but to his upmost relief Jack had taken it in the best way possible.

_“Alright,”_ the boy had simply said, surprising Bruce so much it took him a moment to compose himself. When he had though, his grin was wide from both happiness the boy was willing to join in and thankfulness Jack didn’t think he was a complete weirdo.

Bruce had started. He remembered what he had said, because it had been such a terrible joke. “ _What did the traffic light said to car?_ ” Jack had shrugged politely, giving Bruce his cue to deliver the killer punchline. “ _Can you look away? I’m changing._ ” Neither of them had reacted much to that one.

He also remembered Jack’s first joke. “ _Do you know why I hate Russian dolls? Because they’re so full of themselves._ ” Yep. Infinitely better than his.

At first the smiles had been almost non-existent, forced. But then slowly something had taken effect. Perhaps the jokes had gotten funnier or - what was more likely - the pure activity of almost forcing themselves to laugh eventually took on a more natural essence. Simply the act of laughing did something that no words nor medicine could. Especially after one particular joke Bruce had said about a box of chocolates, that had them both guffawing out loud, covering their mouths with their hands. Not full, belly laughs, but real enough all the same.

Ah, he couldn’t quite think how that one went at the moment, it’d likely come to him later. Probably during calculus.

By the end of it all Bruce’s shoulders had felt lighter than they had done ever since that awful day when he’d been told his grandma wouldn’t be waking up again. He suspected the same went for Jack too. The younger boy had forsaken his duvet cave and was sprawled out on his bed alongside Bruce. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes bright and most importantly, there was a smile on his face.

It was nearing two o’clock when Bruce made moves to go back to his own room. _“We should do this again sometime,”_ he’d hopefully suggested before going.

Jack had nodded, the corner of his mouth still tilted upwards _. “Yeah,”_ he agreed. _“I’d like that.”_

And that was that. Regardless of the sorrows they had both been facing, something had struck a chord inside each boy and they’d immediately felt a strong connection to the other. So yeah, since all those many years ago, they’d been pretty inseparable. Also they had a reputation for spewing out one liners at a record speed, which could make for both entertaining and aggravating car journeys for all the others.

True, they had kind of been split up when Bruce moved up to middle school, but that had hardly counted. The local middle and elementary school were practically neighbours so it hadn’t been too bad. Now though…

Now Bruce was on his own, left to swim with the big fishy’s without his brother in arms by his side.

A last minute glance at the glass reflection alerted the young teen to the incoming attack and he ducked out of the way just in time.

_Okay, so maybe I’m not exactly all alone._

He looked up and glared at the grinning elder teen, before crying out and squirming away as Geoff once again tried to place the iced drink on his bare skin.

“Get off me!” he complained, lying as far back as possible and trying to kick the hand away.

Chuckling, Geoff reluctantly let him be. “Was only checking you were awake, Brucie.”

“Yeah, well I am now so you can keep that away from me unless you want it going out the window.”

“Ooh fighting talk.”

Bruce resorted to a rather childish but age old retort of sticking his tongue out. There was no real annoyance there. Geoff was simply being Geoff. The oldest boy was tall and lanky, with dark hair that stuck up in every direction at all times and big blue eyes. He was rarely seen without his signature smirk on his lips but it was his laugh which was the most infectious, always helping to bring the others out of bad moods.

Geoff called Bruce his little brother, and for Bruce, Geoff truly was his big brother, in every way but blood. He’d taken him under his wing from the very first day he arrived and had treated him in typical big brother fashion. Meaning he was allowed to tease Bruce but if anyone outside of their family did, they’d have Geoff to answer to. The teen was protective to a fault but was always the first one Bruce and the others would go to if they had a problem. Sure, Burnie and Gus and the other staff were great, but sometimes it was just easier to talk to another foster kid.

On the opposite seat, facing towards them, Bruce caught Ryan rolling his eyes, but also the smirk that was there too. Ryan was two years younger than Geoff but almost as tall, and more muscular too. He had dark blond-brown hair and piercing blue eyes that always looked like they could see right through you. Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if they could. Ryan always had a particular no-bullshit aura about him – sharp as a whip and highly thoughtful, the boy had earned the unspoken title as the most intelligent in the time he’d been with them.

Though stern at times – his parents had been in the military and he often carried himself as though he were too, head held high, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him – there was a devilishly humorous side that lurked just under the surface. One that the others were always attempting to release to varying degrees of success. You had to be careful however. Push too far in the wrong direction and he could blow up.

The three were sat in the back of the eleven seater. Not because they were acting “cool” or whatever, but because if they sat any closer to the front it was sure fact that Gus would have snapped at them by now. The man did not like having his routine putting out of order –and ferrying kids to school during rush hour was definitely not on his usual list of to-dos.

_“I’ve worked here too God damn long to still be on driving duty!”_ Gus often complained that a lot of things were beyond his seniority. But he did them anyway.

Without only his own thoughts for company, the fourteen year old _did_ relax slightly more into his own seat, eyeing the two as a question popped into his brain.

“So what do you think of all that this morning?” he asked.

“All what?” Ryan replied curiously.

“Y’know,” Bruce lowered his voice ever so slightly, “with Lawrence and Gavin and Michael.”

Ryan thought for a moment and then just shrugged his shoulders, while Geoff snorted in disinterest.

“It was nothing,” he told Bruce matter-of-factly. “Just little kid stuff.”

Bruce didn’t know if what happened that morning quite counted as “little kid” stuff and Ryan apparently did have some views on the matter.

“I don’t know, Bruce. It’s been a month and he’s still like a stranger.”

“Maybe he’s just shy?” Bruce suggested, although the sudden higher pitch in his voice implied he thought otherwise, and the idea was shut down just by the incredulous looks on the older teens faces. “Okay, okay, not shy.”

_No. Definitely not shy. What is it now…? I’ve already been called an asshole and a motherfucker and a motherfucking asshole at least fifty times over._

No. Speaking his mind was the only thing Lawrence didn’t appear to have trouble with. Bruce was certain he’d never actually wronged the new kid other than the fact that he’d been stood or sat near to him a few times and had maybe accidentally made eye contact.

In fact, no proper conversation had been made between them, other than the younger boy’s typical: “Get out of my way asshole,” and “What the fuck you looking at motherfucker?”. Swiftly followed by apologetic murmurs from Bruce and maybe a stammer added in just to make Bruce feel extra special that he was being intimidated by an _eleven year old_.

“Stuck up more like,” Ryan added onto Bruce’s previous thought.

Now it was Geoff’s turn to look away and stare out of the window. “Aw leave it off,” he teased, “you can’t honestly say _you_ were the perfect picture of calmness and friendliness when you first arrived, Ryebread.”

Ryan shifted in his seat, appearing uncomfortable for a brief few seconds. “Well, no…but I didn’t go around bullying seven year olds,” he said in defence.

“No, you just bullied our furniture,” Geoff deadpanned but there was a fondness in his tone.

Bruce remembered those days – only little over a year and a half ago. While it was true Ryan had been a rather angry young teen, none of it had ever really been directed at them. Yes, he had snapped and yes, he had been closed off for a good while, but the patience and kindness shown to him by the other kids had finally broken through those walls, and he had eventually begun to calm down.

Patience and kindness had done little to please Lawrence though. In fact, Bruce was pretty sure that any form of friendly gesture or words only darkened the boy’s mood even further. As far as they could tell, the boy was happier simply being left alone.

“Just give him some time. A month is nothing,” Geoff continued to tell them, before laughing lightly. “I mean, I was _definitely_ an asshole for at least two years. Just be grateful none of you knew me back then.”

“Why? What did you do?” Bruce asked, eyes widening. Geoff was the only one out of those currently at the home, who had lived there on his own. Well, not on his own exactly, but there had been two other boys there who had since left. Bruce vaguely remembered the other boy – Joel – who’d gone back to live with his parents a few weeks after Bruce had arrived.

Anyway, even for as long as he’d known him, that part of Geoff’s life was still somewhat an unspoken mystery for Bruce, and he was always interested to hear any new stories.

Geoff barked out another laugh. “What didn’t I do?” It was hard to tell if his tone was filled with pride or remorse. Bruce suspected a bit of both.

“Stole shit, broke shit, said shitty stuff about everybody and their mother,” Geoff listed off. “Heck, ran away more times than I could count.” He gave them a sly look. “Always came back before they caught up with me though,” he said, voice quietening in remembrance.

He turned back to the other two, with an expression Bruce couldn’t quite place. “Listen, I love you two, and don’t get upset by this cause I know you’ve both been through hell.” He took a deep breath in before saying: “But _you_ _came_ from loving families.”

Neither Bruce or Ryan spoke up because, at the end of the day, it was true. Bruce’s grandmother had loved him with her whole heart. She had given up a lot to raise him, he’d always known that, but everyday she had told him he was worth it. They’d been comfortably well off, lived in a good neighbourhood. He’d never gone hungry or without necessities for a day in his life.

He hadn’t spoken to Ryan that much about his past but knew the older boy had fond memories of his older brother and parents. However dark the circumstances of Ryan arriving at the home were, he too had definitely been loved as a kid. And that was something less than half of their foster siblings could claim.

So they kept quiet while Geoff continued to speak. Because they knew that _he knew_ what he was talking about.

Blue eyes glazed over, the eldest boy appeared to be lost in another world. “You don’t know what it’s like to be made to feel like a _piece of shit_ from the people you’re made to believe are always gonna _be there_ for you. You were never told you were _worthless_ when you were too young to even understand what was going on.” He sighed heavily. “We don’t know shit about what he’s been through and we don’t judge what we don’t know.” He directed his last words at Ryan. “As far as I’m concerned he’s just an eleven year oldkid who’s probably had a shitty time and just needs time to figure shit out.”

Bruce realised he’d been nodding along as he listened to Geoff, and abruptly stopped in case he looked too much like a nodding dog. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I should give him more of a chance.”

He knew he was lucky he’d come from a good home but he also knew he was lucky in that he’d never had that much trouble making friends and fitting in. But he remembered how Gavin had once been. The little boy hadn’t been rude or violent but he hadn’t spoken for ages – he’d been like a little ghost and had gone nowhere out of his way to try and fit in. But he’d been young and cute, with his blond hair and big green puppy eyes, and no one had minded that he wasn’t sociable. 

“Course I’m right, kid,” Geoff said.

Ryan grumbled. “I never said I would give him a hard time.” However the judgemental look from earlier had gone.

The corner of Geoff’s mouth quirked upwards into a crooked smile. “Guess that’ll have to do,” he grinned at Bruce. “Anyway, enough on that, you thought any more about what we talked about?” he asked.

“Not really…” Bruce suddenly felt uncomfortable with the two pairs of eyes on him.

“What’s that?” Ryan questioned.

“Oh? Didn’t you know?” Geoff’s grin only widened further. “Brucie here’s wanting to join the radio club.”

_Whyyyy, Geoff?_ Bruce didn’t want all the attention to suddenly be on him. “I said I was only thinking about it,” he quickly backtracked. “And I told you that in private!”

His glare did little to lessen Geoff’s grin, who merely reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. Bruce looked up at Ryan, nervous to see the older boy’s expression. Ryan was notorious for saying stuff how he saw it. If he thought the idea was a dumb one, there would be no hiding it.

Ryan however only gave a shrug. “You should go for it,” he said casually, glancing and waving out the window as they neared the school and could see a few of his friends walking by.

Bruce bit down on his lip. “Nah, it’s dumb.” He shot Geoff a look when the eldest looked to speak up again. “I said leave it, okay?”

For once though, Ryan also added his two cents. “You’d be better than half the kids already on there. Not that it’s bad,” he hesitated, letting out a small chuckle at Bruce’s look of confusion. “Just…you would be good for it. You know your stuff.”

Bruce didn’t reply, but nodded slowly. That was rare – for Ryan to encourage someone to do something. Not that the boy was discouraging or anything, it was just he rarely seemed to care what other people did. As long as it didn’t affect him, he usually wanted no part in the matter.

Bruce had always been a nervous boy by nature, although his friendly and positive persona often made that hard to believe. He didn’t know where it had stemmed from. He’d always had a good time at school, his grandmother had provided him with all the love and attention he needed.

And she’d always been calm. So very, very calm. Never once raising her voice in anger at him.

See that had always been his thing. Or rather, his hatred. Bruce had no memory of his parents, but his subconscious did, and so did his physical body. No visual memories but one thing he knew for sure: he hated people arguing. Not the petty squabbles that go on in every day life and were unavoidable, but the pure hatred and anger that can only come from full on disdain for another human being.

Bruce’s parents had fought a lot. Both verbal and physical. His mother - his grandmother’s daughter - had got involved with the wrong crowd during high school, after her own father - his grandmother’s ex-husband - had passed away. His father - the fifth son out of seven to a notorious gang leader - was an asshole. An asshole who was a drug dealer and who got his mom hooked at an early age.

They’d been arguing since the day Bruce had been born, and many years prior to that. Arguing had become part of their daily routine and as they grew older, the reasons behind the disagreements became far more deep rooted and resentful.

Arguments had turned into screaming matches. Screaming matches had turned into slaps and punches. And finally, the constant fighting took a deadly turn when his mom used a kitchen knife to stab his father in the stomach one night - for reasons unknown, drugs, money, other women, there were a whole host of possibilities. Not one to be outdone, the man had used his last remaining strength to slam her down against the counter, her head cracking against the corner of the hard marble surface.

The bodies had been discovered the next morning when the mailman had spotted the body of his father through the window and called 911.

Both of his parents were pronounced dead at the scene.

Bruce had only just turned two.

As far as he could remember, his childhood had always been a happy one. He’d had a great upbringing as far as he was concerned. But there were times when he was asleep, or drifting into realms of subconsciousness, that he could hear them again. Rage. So much rage.

And it wasn’t just his own memories that affected him. At times, it felt like he was almost walking in another’s shoes, experiencing what they were feeling.

He remembered asking the elderly woman about it once, about why it was that he cared about stuff that other kids his age deemed uninteresting or unimportant. He told her that they’d passed a woman arguing on her phone on the way home from school. That the woman had been really upset, almost crying, as she struggled with her groceries.

He told her that _“my heart felt all sad when I saw her, like it made me feel that sad too, and I wanted to help her”._ He said that when he’d tried to explain it to his friends that they had given him a strange look and told him he was weird - that it was only a woman, someone they didn’t even know.

His grandma had no such words for him though. Pulling him over to sit on her lap; _“You’re special baby boy,”_ she had told him. _“You’re special and that’s why those other kids can’t understand, because they’re not like you.”_ Tapping on his chest she had explained in a tone that always sounded so wise. “ _We all feel stuff in here. But some people feel everything that bit more. That’s why you be getting extra happy when someone else is happy, and why you be getting extra sad when you see another crying. And that’s not a bad thing._ ” She laughed lightly at his wide, unblinking eyes. “ _It just means you’ve got such a big heart, you’ve got extra space for other people’s feelings. And that’s no thing to be ashamed of._ ”

He’d smiled warmly back at her, amazed how she was always able to make everything better with just a few words.

They’d sat there for a while before his grandma sighed and ushered him up, making her way over to a cabinet she kept her bottles of wine and gin. Basically the ‘no go zone’ for Bruce. Opening up the dark wood door, she bent down and reached inside, pulling out a paper wrapped package, about the size of her own hand.

“ _I was going to wait to give this to you on your birthday. But I believe now calls for something special_ ,” she told him as he gazed at her and the package with fascination.

“ _This is for me?_ ” he asked as she handed it over to him.

“ _This is for you._ ”

Excitedly tearing off the paper, his face lit up at the item inside. “ _Cool!_ ”

An iPod! Only a few kids at school had one and they were all the rage. His grandma had laughed at his expression, ruffled his hair, and told him that whenever he felt scared or out of control, to listen to the music. _“Let it guide you home.”_

Yeah...from an early age Bruce could be described as a music nerd. Ska especially, that was his jam - never mind what others thought about it.

With the words still ringing in his ears, Bruce reached down and picked his backpack up, unzipping it and tracing his thumb over the scratched and faded casing.

He still missed his grandma a great deal – probably a day didn’t go by when he wouldn’t have a wistful but fond memory of her. When he was younger, most of the kids his age still had the unrefined mentality that “boys are better than girls!” and vice versa. Bruce hadn’t really cared much for either viewpoint. All he knew was that his grandmother - a woman nearing sixty - was one of the greatest people in the world.

Before he could get too lost in the past, he felt his phone vibrate and as he pulled it out, his mouth stretched into a wide grin, practically splitting his cheeks. The message was only short so he could read it on the lock screen as the van pulled up outside the high school.

It was from Jack; and it simply read: _Life is like a box of chocolates. It doesn’t last long if you’re fat! Take care buddy. X_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit earlier than expected with this chapter. I've got no strict schedule for when I'm gonna upload but will always try and do it within a week of the previous chapter. Anyway thanks to everyone who's read so far. Anyone who drops a comment or leaves kudos will forever be in my good books!


	3. Chapter 3

_“You hate yourself that much, huh?” - James_

 

At last, the first week of school was over. Ryan had already settled into sophomore year pretty well. He knew who the good guys were. He knew who the assholes were. He knew which teachers would let him get away with more and which ones would take no shit. He knew which girl Geoff already had his eyes on - perfect ammunition for inevitable rows between them. Rows of love, of course.

Ryan also knew that ten dollars had gone missing from his jacket pocket on Wednesday. He knew he hadn’t lost it, it’d been there when he’d hung it up on the back of his door and gone by the time he went to put it on again the next day.

Lawrence. Fucking, Lawrence. There was no proof but he knew that smart-mouthed little shit was the only one who would have the nerve to do such a thing. He let it slide for now because Burnie already had enough problems involving the boy without Ryan dropping another one on his plate but if something else went missing he wasn’t going to hold back again. The kid couldn’t be allowed to get away with murder forever. It wasn’t right.

Right now Ryan was heading upstairs, up the long, winding, wooden flight that probably only just passed the health and safety checks every six months. The attic was a favourite spot of his to go when he needed a break away from the noise and the little pitter patter of feet that were almost certainly coming to pester him.

It was the only place in the house that didn’t constantly see human traffic passing though. It was dimly lit and dusty, with cobwebs in every corner, along with that certain musty smell that came from all the old storage boxes, some of which had been up there since the beginning. For Ryan, it was perfect.

He wasn’t alone in his thinking though, and Ryan smiled at the boy curled up in the window seat, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them tightly. It wasn’t the first time he and Gavin had crossed paths in their hunt for solace.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t getting his desired alone time. Gavin though…Gavin he could deal with. In fact he even welcomed the kid’s company.

The young boy didn’t turn around but Ryan knew he could hear him approaching, the old wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. Only when Ryan was right next to him did Gavin turn his head, gazing up at Ryan with soulful green eyes. Ryan crouched down next to him, smiling gently. “Hey, little man,” he greeted, using the nickname he reserved only for the British boy.

“Hi.”

“Came up here for some quiet, huh? Me too but I can find someplace else if you want.”

Gavin shook his head, blond locks falling in front of his eyes. “No, it’s okay.”

Ryan nodded in thanks, taking his seat opposite Gavin, tucking one foot under his leg, both of them turning to look out over the back garden and beyond. It was a beautiful area, no one could deny that. Green rolling fields and tall trees. Ryan hoped the land would stay that way and not be used to build more houses. The city’s population grew larger each year however, so nothing was guaranteed, like most things in life.

“Busy week?” he asked Gavin.

He sensed rather than heard the boy struggling for words. “There’s a lot of new people,” the youngster eventually settled on.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Anyone give you any trouble?”

Ryan felt it unlikely he would be the first one Gavin would tell if he were at the receiving end of any bullying - Geoff or Michael or Burnie were usually the ones best able to get the boy to open up - but he liked to think Gavin trusted him enough to at least give him some sort of signal that something was bothering him. Gavin shook his head ‘no’ anyway. He didn’t appear upset, just thoughtful.

“You sleeping okay?” Ryan asked also, noticing the dark marks under the boy’s eyes, more prominent than usual..

Gavin sniffed, rubbing at his nose. “Sometimes,” he said, giving Ryan a knowing look. “You?”

Ryan snorted lightly. “Sometimes.” He had medication to help him to sleep better but he didn’t like to take it often. It didn’t sit right with him, forcefully putting himself to sleep, no matter how bad his insomnia got.

“Michael has nightmares sometimes,” Gavin mentioned and then was quiet for so long that Ryan wondered if that random comment was all he was getting. But then Gavin continued, in his pondering, wise beyond his years tone way he could have about him occasionally. “I think that’s normal, for kids like us…” He met Ryan’s gaze again, unblinking, green staring right into blue. “But sometimes when I have nightmares I wake up…and for a moment the nightmare hasn’t ended. It’s like it’s jumped out of my dream into real life and it’s like…like…” He broke the gaze suddenly, eyes shutting tightly. “Sometimes it’s like they’re back,” he whispered.

Ryan didn’t need to ask who “they” were.

Not wanting to startle him, the older boy reached out slowly, placing a gentle hand on the skinny shoulder. “Y’know Gavin, I’m not good at this whole talking thing, but if you ever wake up and the nightmares are still there, feel free to get me or shout for me. I’ll beat their ass.” He took pleasure in the small laugh that elicited from the boy. “I’m serious though. Me and everyone here – we won’t ever let anyone hurt you. You hear me?”

Gavin mulled the words over before giving a single nod. “Yeah.” He beamed, at once looking like the seven year old he was supposed to be again. “Thanks Ryan.”

“You’re welcome.”

Their moment of companionship was cut short as Gavin’s attention was caught by activity out of the window. “Hey, check it out,” he gestured.

Ryan did check it out and he huffed out an exasperated chuckle at the sight - Adam and James beginning to wrestle each other outside, their shouts and cries even heard from way up on the top floor.

“I swear those idiots are gonna kill each other one day.”

 

––––

 

“C’mon Adam, let’s go again!”

“Can’t we –” Adam dropped his hands to his knees, bending over as he breathed heavily. “Can’t we break just for a second?” he rasped.

James turned his head to him with a glint in his eyes. “Yeah we can break!” he agreed, way too excited for someone who wanted a rest. Adam’s suspicions proved correct when the older boy immediately launched to the ground, rotating his body with his hands, legs flipping over each other.“Breakdancing!” he cried out.

Adam rolled his eyes. “You have too much energy.”

“You are too much like an old man.”

Adam shrugged. “Whatever. I’m going in for a bit. It’s too hot out here.”

Autumn, it seemed, was arriving late this year, and the temperature was still warm enough for shorts and t-shirts even in the early evening.

He began to walk away, only to hear shuffling and the rustling of clothes against grass, as James quickly got to his feet. “James…” he groaned.

“Oh what’s this? From the top ropes!”

“Wait a –”

“An elbow drop!”

Adam had no time to react before he was knocked off his feet onto the ground, James coming to fall on top of him.

He huffed, glaring up into the grinning face of his best friend. “I hate you,” he said.

James only laughed, leaping upright straight away and holding out a hand to heave Adam to his feet. “C’mon, Kovic. There’s no finer weather for backyard wrestling.” He draped an arm over the younger boy’s shoulders, tilting his head to lean against Adam’s. “Pleeeaase,” he begged, making his blue eyes impossibly wide.

Adam pushed him off. “Don’t try that with me, you know that only works with the adults.” But he walked back over to the training mats he and James and dragged out into the back garden after they got home from school. All in all it had been a good day. Adam had received an impressive six out of twenty on a spelling test. For him that was an improvement of exactly six since the last one. It wasn’t even that he was that bad of a speller. He just couldn’t be bothered to think too hard about how exactly a word should look. “People understand what I mean! Who cares how it looks?” His teacher never seemed to go for that excuse for some reason.

“Not Gus,” James corrected him. “I think I could fall and accidentally knock my head off and he’d just sigh and tell me to bother him when something more urgent happens.”

Adam snorted. “Yeah, well that’s Gus for you.’

He took his position on the mat again, waiting for James to move towards him. Backyard wrestling had been a past time of theirs for a few years now, ever since James had begun watching WWE on TV and become absolutely hooked and obsessed.

And as such, being James’ best friend and brother and all, Adam had been his first choice of sparring partner. Lucky Adam indeed. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

Although the young boy had to admit there was some enjoyment to it, the amount of times James had persuaded him into coming outside only to be thrown about when he could be inside watching a movie or reading a comic was leaning towards the absurd.

Still, he’d take being drop kicked and suplexed by James any day over what used to be a typical day for him.

Adam remembered his life not always being bad. Back when it had just been him and his mom and his younger brother, things had been fine. They’d been poor, but then everybody in their neighbourhood had been so it wasn’t like he’d ever felt out of place.

He’d been a good kid on the whole. Helpful and polite, never engaged in bullying. The worse thing he’d probably done was swipe some candy from the counter at the local corner store. During the day he’d gone to school and learned to read and count and at night he’d come home and ate a family meal, watched TV and gone to bed with the night light on. Normal kid, normal childhood.

Until Toby came into their life. The man earned a decent living and was his mother’s first partner since their dad had walked out on them when Adam was two. At first, Adam had adored the man. It was the first time he’d ever had a father figure to look up to. Someone to teach him to ride a bike and fly a kite and all the other stuff dads were meant to do. At first, Toby had been decent to him and his family. 

But that honeymoon period had been short lived. And when it was over everything had turned black. Adam had noticed the small changes for a while. How Toby had always wanted to stay in during the evening rather than go out, how he would get upset if his mom ever wanted to do something without him. He noticed the bruises that would appear on his mom’s arms and neck - ones that hadn’t been there the night before. He noticed how his mom was no longer the smiling woman she had once been. He noticed her crying in the bathroom or kitchen when she thought nobody was around.

Toby would be going soon, that’s what he’d thought. He may have only been seven years old but he was smart enough to realise there was no way in hell the relationship was going to last. Except after a month or so, Toby hadn’t left. He was still there.

Then things really went to hell.

Adam had been out a bit later than normal after a game of street baseball that had overrun. Entering his family’s apartment he jumped as a large hand had grabbed him by the shoulder pulling him face to face with it’s owner. Toby’s eyes had been bloodshot and his breath stunk of alcohol.

“ _Where the fuck have you been?_ ” he’d growled, not loosening his grip. Adam had been scared stiff but managed to stammer out an answer. Much good it had done him.

That was the first night Toby had hit him. Left him with a black eye that Adam told everybody he’d gained from the same baseball game that had earned him the injury in the first place.

And from then on, things kept on getting worse. Toby drank more. Got angry more for increasingly trivial things. His mom was silent, a shell of who she used to be. His little brother - only four - was constantly scared, worried that a foot out of place would earn him a beating. Adam did his best to be there for the both of them. Tried to turn Toby’s attention on him if he could see the man getting mad at his mom or brother.

Eventually it had been that foolhardiness that had alerted the authorities, when the young boy had admitted himself to ER with a broken wrist and pitiful excuses as to how it had happened.

Things moved quickly after that - his memory of the events somewhat a blur.

He’d been at The Rooster Teeth home for about three years now. He’d been in two other homes - one emergency placement he and his brother were first taken to on the night social services took them away, and one other short term home where he stayed while the child welfare office and a judge worked to decide what would be happening to him.

Adam had wanted to go back to his mom. For things to just go back to how they used to be before Toby came into their lives and ruined everything. Unfortunately that was not to be. The judge ruled his mom unfit to care for them due to poor mental health. Apparently she’d been using drugs too. Wow, Adam had completely missed that one.

And so it had been bye bye mom. Bye bye little brother. New, scary home here we come. In the end the home had turned out to be anything but scary and Adam still had contact with his little brother once a week and with his mom once a month as long as she was feeling up to it, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. None of what happened was what he’d wanted.

Adam got told he was lucky by his social worker a lot. Lucky that there’d been a space open at a home like Rooster Teeth. Lucky that he still had contact with his mom and brother. Adam always sneered at that. Was it lucky his mom’s boyfriend had beaten him and the ones he loved most dearly? Was it lucky he was now officially a kid in care until he turned eighteen? Was it lucky he would never have a chance to feel like that normal kid again? No. Call him ungrateful but he didn’t see how he was lucky. Any kid who got put into care was most decidedly unlucky.

But getting put into care, was probably where most of his bad luck had ended. He couldn’t remember what he’d been expecting back then. Maybe kids who’d punch him to show their authority or care workers who’d lock him in the closet if his bedroom wasn’t tidy enough.

_Luckily_ for Adam, instead of that Dickensian version, he got Rooster Teeth. And that wasn’t bad at all. He had his _own_ room for once - as all new kids did before they decided who they wanted to share with. He didn’t have to worry about food or clothes anymore - it was never an issue. He didn’t have to worry about people getting drunk and hitting him - that was the main one - everybody was nice and welcoming and _understanding._ Understanding of the fact that Adam might be a bit jumpy and hesitant and shorthanded at first, because they’d all been there too at some point.

The roommate he had eventually chosen - James - had been as much of a surprise as all the others had been. A tall, smiling, bright-eyed boy. He laughed a lot and joked around a lot. He smiled and messed around, looked on everything with his crazily blue, optimistic eyes. His head was always full of movie quotes that he could bring out on command, and he seemed to have an endless amount of impressions stored away.

For Adam, a young boy who until recently couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, making friends with James had been like having his own personal comedian. The slightly older boy had been at the home since he was six, and walked with a self assurance and confidence in himself that put Adam at ease also.

The biggest mystery about him had been where he disappeared off to every couple of weeks. Apparently he went to see some woman called Nicki but when Adam had asked about it James had just laughed his questions off and said they only talked for a few hours about trivial matters. Said he only went out of habit and for the free food. That he could stop going whenever he felt like it.

Adam often wished he were more like James in those initial days. Wished he could feel so carefree and light hearted at all times. Wished he didn’t have so many dark memories holding him back. Looking back on those days now, Adam would roll his eyes at how oblivious he had been. What the hell had he known?

“ _He’s been with ten different families_ ,” Jack had told him after a month or so. “ _Not surprising – he’s like the perfect looking kid. Every rich couple in the state wanted to adopt him like he’s some sort of magnet and they’re made of metal. But they always brought him back. Apparently he was wonderful most of the time, but when he’s not…well, I guess you’ll see for yourself._ ”

It took Adam a while to see that side of James.

It had been that first Christmas he’d spent at the home. He remembered being in tremendous awe of all the decorations and lights and the humongous tree taking pride of place in the living room - ornaments and tinsel galore. The presents had been piled high and the food so delicious all the kids and staff had eaten until they felt sick, which Burnie had told Adam was the only way to enjoy a Christmas meal.

It was fairly late on Christmas Day when a large box had appeared on the door step addressed to James. It had taken both Burnie and Gus to carry it inside and upstairs, all while James had watched on, his expression darkening every second. Adam had been intrigued more than anything. Who was sending James a Christmas present? And what on earth was in it? James didn’t have contact with either of his parents. They were both in prison as far as Adam knew.

Whatever was in that box, the contents had put James into a bad mood after he’d been left in his room with it for all of ten minutes.

Bad mood. It became an understatement for what James was that evening. He couldn’t speak in full sentences. His eyes darted around in constant movement. He was nothing of the smiling boy he usually was.

Gus, because talking wasn’t working, turned James loose on the boxing bags they had set up in the basement.

James fought, punched, yelled. Struck so hard, for so long, that he ended up coated in sweat, hoarse, nearly hyperventilating.

Adam had watched, silent, letting him beat the bag until he was exhausted. Troubled by his friend suddenly in a real, deep way. Anger like that had deep wells, and to be able to cover it so well, so often, by such happiness…

Adam realised he wasn’t the only one with problems. That James’ problems were just as real as his, and he had been a bad friend by pretending or believing otherwise purely for his own benefit.

When James’ punches finally slowed, and his contorted face began to relax, Adam looked away to see Gus had been replaced by Burnie, standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

Burnie had gone to the young boy instantly.

Adam was wide-eyed after watching his best friend lash out, but he should have known better than to worry about Burnie understanding and taking everything in his stride, as James finally slumped against the concrete wall, panting, exhausted.

Burnie went to James without hesitation, crouching beside the usually smiling boy.

Adam had heard his words and was stunned.

“ _Your parents will never hurt you again._ ”

“ _I, I…_ ”

“ _It’s alright, James. I’m here. You’re safe._ ”

The young boy had collapsed into his arms, shaking, crying. Adam had still only watched on, frozen to the spot in confusion and worry, unable to tear his gaze away, beginning to feel tears pricking at his own eyes.

Burnie, taking pity on him and wanting some space for him and James, sent Adam away on a special mission. “ _Adam why don’t you go and ask Barbara to help you make some hot chocolate while James goes and takes a shower. Can you do that for us, please?_ ”

Adam nodded, still not quite able to look away from James. “ _Okay_ ,” he’d said quietly.

Burnie winked and gave a reassuring smile. “ _Atta boy._ ”

Barbara had been more than happy to help him make the hot chocolate for himself and James, as well as herself…and then Michael when the four year old had come sniffing out the treat and refused to leave until he got what he wanted.

When James had finally returned from his shower, he was smiling and bright-eyed. He acted as if his earlier mood had never happened, even seeming confused when Adam asked him about it.

Adam however, couldn’t leave it be - couldn’t go on and pretend like nothing ever happened, that he hadn’t seen or heard anything of importance. He’d tried that method once before, back when he and his mom and brother were beaten and abused. Never again.

And so he had asked James, begged with him, pleaded to the boy to confide in him. Tried to explain how it was okay, how he could trust Adam because Adam was his friend and friends should be there for one another.

For a while it had seemed like James resented him for his questions and curiosity, almost like he hated him. For a second, Adam had almost begun to believe it to be true.

But then one sunny spring day, the older boy had found him sitting on the terrace at the back, where Adam had been watching to see if any baby rabbits were going to make their appearance. He’d been dragged outside by young Michael, who quickly lost interest and went to find his favourite stick instead.

Adam had kept his mouth shut as James sat down on the decking next to him, dangling his legs over the edge. He hadn’t spoken properly to James for a few days, and was increasingly worried the friendship might have been ruined for good.

James was quiet for a while too - looking everywhere but at Adam, picking splinters out of the wood. Adam had watched him, the warm breeze blowing the boy’s curled fringe to one side, revealing those deep blue eyes. Troubled eyes.

“ _My parents…_ ” James had suddenly began, surprising Adam so much he audibly took a deep breath in. James shuddered, eyes glazing over before he squeezed them tight shut. “ _Were horrible people._ ” And then the dam had opened, an outburst of pure emotion and rage. And James told Adam exactly why he had been placed in care.

What Adam already knew of James’ parents was limited but true. They were both in prison. They would most likely be there for life. They had been rich. Very rich. And that’s where his knowledge ended and James’ horrible truth began.

James’ parents, you see, were somewhat entrepreneurial. All business, James had spat it out like the word itself was diseased. They’d been involved in dodgy under the table deals and investments long before James was born - offering services not available on the normal consumer market, high risk but extremely rewarding. And when James came along, that had only increased their attractiveness to prospective clients, for they could use him as a bargaining chip to settle any doubts when it came to their more…hazardous procedures.

“ _They’d say: have the boy, he can be your insurance, keep him until the job is done,_ ” James told him, fists clenched so hard his knuckles had turned white. He let out a laugh - fake and wrought with pain. “ _I hated it but most of the time I’d just sit around in their big old house, bored out of my mind._ ” He paused again, taking in a few deep breaths. “ _But…but one time there was this really bad thing this one guy wanted me to do for him. I just…I just_ couldn’t _. I didn’t even understand what was going on at the time. I just knew it was bad. And now I’m older and I do know…_ ” He placed his palms over his face and rubbed angrily. “ _It’s even worse_ ,” he said into his hands.

“ _What was it?_ ” Adam hesitated to ask.

“ _I can’t tell you. Not yet_ ,” James replied, finally looking him dead in the eye, two orbs lost in the past. “ _Just know it was_ really, really _bad and I…I was gonna do it. He was gonna_ make me.” Another fake laugh, closer to a whimper this time. “ _But that day, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there showed up and stopped it from happening. They saved me from it. And then I got taken away from that hell._ ”

His curiosity was intense but Adam let it rest. James had told him all he was going to for today. “ _Those presents were from them?_ ” he asked instead. “ _That’s why it made you angry?_ ”

James nodded. “ _All I ever was to them, was an asset,_ ” he spat out. “ _Nothing more than a tool for them to use as they pleased_.” He slammed his fist down on the decking. “ _And now they have the nerve to think they can simply buy me off with all this worthless crap!_ ”

His cry of rage echoed around the sunlit garden, seeming out of place in such a picturesque setting. James shut up immediately, needing a moment to gather his thoughts and settle his breathing. When he spoke again it was like a magic trick had been performed. All traces of previous anger and pain were gone, the smile Adam knew was back. But it wasn’t real, not fully. No, when James’s smiled properly his eyes lit up and sparkled. Right now they were dull, void of life, no matter how hard he was trying to show otherwise.

“ _Anyway…_ ” James said slyly. “ _You want it?_ ” At Adam’s confused expression he expanded. “ _The stuff. I told Burnie just to give it to everybody else but he stored it in the attic I think. I sure as hell ain’t keeping it but no reason why you can’t. Didn’t really look at it but there’s some video game stuff and cars and helicopters. Expensive stuff, y’know._ ”

Adam frowned, thinking back on all the times James had made him laugh with one of his jokes or dumb impressions. Of all the times James had gone out of his way to make sure Adam felt at home and comfortable when he himself could have moments of such turmoil. How he’d kept it all hidden away, for Adam’s sake as much as his own.

Adam looked at his friend again, before swinging his legs up so he sat facing James. “ _When I was younger I would have killed to have had a handful of stuff like that._ ” James nodded in acceptance, thinking he knew what was coming next, and Adam smiled. “ _But none of it would be worth more than having a friend like you._ ”

That actually caused James to drop his act for a second - the smile vanishing to be replaced with a surprised stare. It reappeared pretty quickly - James was good at reacting quickly to changing situations - except this time it was real. This time his eyes sparkled. “ _Aww stop with the sappy talk, you’re gonna make me cry, Kovic!_ ” he jokingly gushed, playfully pushing Adam’s head away.

Adam laughed. “ _Kovic_?” he queried.

“ _That’s your name, isn’t it?_ ”

“ _Well…yeah, my last name._ ”

“ _I dunno, it suits you_ ,” James said with a shrug and a cheeky smirk. “ _Yeah from now on you’re gonna be Kovic. Kovic is a much better sidekick name than Adam!_ ”

In a flash, he stood up brushing himself down, Adam following suit.

“ _Who decided you got to be the hero?_ ” the younger boy asked.

James laughed, patting Adam on the shoulder sympathetically. “ _Please Adam, don’t be silly now._ ”

Yep, James could be an idiot and immature sometimes, but Adam knew there was so much more to his friend than just a couple of jokes and a huge grin. James’ bad moods had considerably lessened over the past years, although when they did occur they were just as bad, if not more violent and scary. Adam still didn’t know what he could do to make it better but James still went to his sessions with Nicki every couple of weeks. All Adam could do was look out for his friend and be there for him in every way possible. Currently that included being wrestled into the ground every damn day.

“Look, watch me –” James was saying after Adam had failed to reverse his hold. Adam sighed, trying to copy what James was doing when…

“Hey guys, what are you doing?”

Adam turned to see Elyse walking over, blonde hair glistening in the sun, a smile on her face. Adam smiled back while James stood up straight, scuffing his sneakers into the mat.

“Oh um, nothing really,” James mumbled, suddenly sounding extremely disinterested.

Adam gave him a strange look, answering for the both of them. “We’re practicing our wrestling moves, or rather James is on me. You wanna join?”

He liked Elyse - had warmed up to her instantly and that wasn’t a trait he tended to have. He couldn’t help it though, Elyse was just so nice, and they had lunch together every day at school. Plus she was a girl. His mom had raised him to treat girls with his upmost respect and courtesy.

Elyse’s face lit up with delight. “Sure!” She readily agreed, like that was the answer she’d been hoping for.

Next to him he heard James mutter something under his breath. “I don’t know if –” his friend began, only to be cut off when Adam not so subtly kicked him in the leg. Still looking moody he sent Adam a dark look but nodded to Elyse anyway. “Yeah. Great.”

_What the hell is up with him?_

All of a sudden the hyper, happy James from earlier had been replaced with a sullen, sour faced boy. James seemed to have lost all energy and enthusiasm and his moves and taunts were harsh and sarcastic. Nothing of his previous demeanour. Or any really that Adam knew. He hadn’t seen this grump side to James before - he was either normal and happy or in one of his dark rages - not this strange in between.

Elyse did her best to ignore him and just try and have fun but Adam could tell his friend’s cold act was grating on her. On Adam too.

At one point James dramatically fell to the ground, groaning out. “Oh noooo. You got me.” Sarcasm dripping from every word, and Adam decided to pull him to one side.

“Cut it out dude. What’s your problem?”

James glared at him. “We were fine on our own. We didn’t need _her_ too.”

“Why? Cause I’m a girl?” Both boys looked to see Elyse standing there - well they hadn’t exactly gone far to talk privately - and she looked absolutely furious.

“I didn’t say that –” James tried to talk his way out but she was rightly having none of it.

“You think I can’t keep up with you two?”

“No but me and Adam have got this rhythm–” James didn’t get very far before he was forced to the ground by Elyse charging forward, connecting a well placed arm across his chest.

“I thought you were nice,” Elyse said as she stormed off, leaving James dazed on the ground and Adam staring after her in a mixture of sorrow and awe.

Adam blinked. “Well that was awesome.”

Below him James grumbled. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” James insisted, brushing off Adam’s hand of assistance. “She just caught me off balance.”

He was embarrassed, Adam could tell, a rarity for sure. “No, I mean – she’s not lying. You're usually…more welcoming…” Adam bit at his lip in hesitance. “It wasn’t cause she was a girl was it?” he asked quietly.

“Course not!” James replied instantly, indignant. “Didn’t want her to get hurt, that’s all.”

He was hiding something. Hiding some emotion or memory he didn’t want anyone else to know about. It killed Adam to see his best friend still so wary about showing his true colours. That he had built his walls so high Adam didn’t know if he would ever have the strength to knock them down. He could adapt to the moment though, provide at least some distraction from whatever darkness James was combating.

“Yeah well I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” he teased, purposefully keeping his tone as light as possible. “C’mon, let’s go and find Michael and Gavin. I’m feeling like some Mario Party.”

A pause. And then James’ face lightened at the prospect too, like he had been waiting for the opportunity to switch his mind onto something else. “You hate yourself that much, huh?” he joked with his signature smile.

Adam grinned, shrugging good-naturedly and wrapping a brotherly arm around James’ neck. “Course, or my name wouldn’t be Kovic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who's been reading and left kudos! Much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

_“Shit, just cause this job pays well, don’t mean it’s popular.” - Trevor_

 

_Memories came and went as he slept. Like waves on a distant shore of his past. Consistent, always present even with the turning of the tide. That night he's young, barely at the age of walking or talking._

_He was small. His parents liked to keep him that way. Said it was easier, more efficient, made for better results._

_He was scared. That was all he ever was. A young, small, scared boy._

_He flinched as another crash echoed out around the windowless, cold room. He jumped back, like he had done the previous five times. The crash came again, a crack of lightning, deafening to his sensitive ears. He jumped less at the second one though, for he had still been in shock from the first._

_You just have to stay calm. Even at the tender age of two, the boy knew all he had to do was stay calm, and then it would all be over._

_Crash!_

_Again he jumped, but there was less terror in it._

_He was growing accustomed to the sound._

_There. There's nothing scary about it._

_Eeeck!_

_He cried out that time, lurching back against the hard, concrete wall, the impact jarring his bones._

_A new sound, screeching. No! No they were changing it up. Please, please, he just wanted it to be over._

_It wasn’t though. He endured another hour of sounds. Terrified and tortured._

_But eventually he had grown used to them so he no longer flinched when they surprised him with a new one._

_Then and only then did they let him out._

 

_A year later._

_He's older but not that much bigger._

_Skinny too - they'd cut back on his diet, worried he'd been getting too strong after he broke free of one of their experiments far quicker than they had liked. Now though, all he was required to do was sit._

_Sit in silence, with merely one task at hand._

_One small needle, the length of his pinky. All he had to do was push into his other hand, just enough so the point broke through the skin, not far enough that he would cause any serious damage._

_It hurt._

_It hurt so much for a child so young. Most kids his age would cry and try to run if a doctor approached them with a needle, and yet here he was, choosing to inflict the pain on himself. Well, it wasn't like he had any other choice._

_Again and again, in and out of his skin until tiny droplets of blood began to bubble up from where he'd stabbed one too many times._

_Eventually he could take no more and he sat the needle down on the table in front of him. The door opened. He was told he had done well. He would be rewarded._

_The words meant little to him._

 

_Now he was even older._

_A boy of about six, floating in the clear, chlorine-filled waters. His lungs ached in his chest. His eyes stung, red and raw. His skinny body was shaking with fear and exhaustion._

_And again, they were saying. He was going under again._

_There is no time to react before there's a large hand on the back of his head and he's being forced downwards, swimming pool water cascading into his nose._

_He thrashes out, like he has done every time._

_All that he has gone through. All that they've made him endure...nothing could compare to this. This was pure hell._

_Black spots appear at the edge of his vision, growing larger by the second._

_His head feels heavy. His lungs are on fire._

_The darkness closes in and then...then..._

 

Gavin shot up in bed, gulping in a huge breath of air. His lungs burned like he’d been holding his breath in his sleep and there were unshed tears in the corner of his eyes. He was sweating profusely, his pajamas clinging to his skin, and he worried for a moment that he’d wet the bed with how damp his sheets were.

All good on that front luckily.

Gavin glanced across the room, towards the dark shape of the other bed. Michael was still sleeping soundly, soft snores the giveaway of a much more peaceful sleep.

He can’t have been making that much noise then, Gavin realised. At least that was some form of improvement.

Turning his pillow over, he lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. Ryan’s room was just above his. So close…and Ryan had said he was welcome to fetch him if ever he was scared. But there was no need to wake the older boy. This wasn’t a moment where Gavin had woken up and felt like the danger was still nearby. Nope, this had been a rare time where he’d woken up and immediately felt safe in his own room, far away from anything bad.

Perhaps it was Michael’s rhythmic snoring that was helping.

No, the worst thing about his dreaming tonight was that there was no chance of him going back to sleep. He couldn’t risk going back there again, not when everything was so calm in the real world.

So he simply lay there, gazing up at the plain white ceiling, listening to Michael sleeping, and wishing the night away.

 

––––

 

When Michael woke the next morning he noticed two things that were wrong. One: Gavin was still in bed and two: Gavin was still in bed _and_ awake.

The younger boy was normally up about half an hour before Michael, and would get out of bed straight away, dress, and go downstairs to watch TV until Michael had arisen also. Sometimes, if he’d had a bad night he’d sleep in, and Michael would wait until he woke so they could go down together. But if he’d had a really bad night, like Michael was assuming last night had been, he wouldn’t have gone back to sleep at all, instead staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face, having not realised what time it was.

The whole week, Michael had noticed the bags under his friend’s eyes growing darker and it concerned him.

“Gavvy, you okay?” he asked the boy later on that day while they sat downstairs, after Michael had been talking to the boy for about two minutes before realising nothing of what he was saying was being heard. “Bad night, right?” Gavin slowly turned his gaze on him, blinking owlishly a few times when he became aware Michael was addressing him. “You wanna talk about it?” Michael tried.

That had always helped Michael. Even though he’d thought it was stupid and pointless at first. Talking had a way of releasing emotions he didn’t even realise he’d been holding back. It was the simplest form of expression, but having an engaged and trusted ear on the other end made all the difference in the wold. Talking and listening. The greatest wonder of human communication.

“So what you doing if your not sleeping then?” Michael pressed at Gavin’s silence. “You gotta sleep at some point, right?”

Gavin continued to fiddle with the small action figure on the table in front of him, avoiding Michael’s intense stare.

Michael sighed. “Gav, if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you I’m marching us both straight to Burnie.”

Gavin paused, and then carefully set the plastic Iron Man down. He folded his skinny arms across his chest. “It’s the same as last time it got bad,” he murmured, barely distinguishable.

“Swimming pool?” Michael guessed. That had been the main nightmare plaguing the younger boy the last time he’d gone through his nights of no sleep.

Gavin nodded, hanging his head down so blond locks fell even further over his eyes, hiding the green orbs. “It was the worst. It was just…” He visibly shuddered. “It was horrible, Michael.”

There was so much pain and torment behind those few words. Pain that Michael could barely understand but detested so much. Because it wasn’t right. When Gavin was happy, he was the happiest and most joy-filled kid Michael had ever met. But those moments were rare, because there was always the little whisper in the back of Gavin’s mind, calling him back to those dark days, fighting to eliminate any light in his life.

Michael instinctively moved to sit next to the boy, squishing himself onto the same chair, huddling close. “I know - I mean I don’t know, I can’t ever imagine what that would be like, but - I dunno, the more you talk to me, the more I can try and help.”

Gavin shrunk further down in the seat, but didn’t move away from Michael. “I already told you what happened.”

“So? I ain’t complaining,” Michael insisted. “You ever feel bad or scared, you tell me about it. I’m your buddy, remember? Ain’t nothing bad or wrong about talking to your buddy.”

His attempts at comfort were still met with silence from his friend. Michael was sat so close he thought he could hear Gavin’s heart beating in his chest, rapid, nervous. He pressed his mouth tight in thought. _What to say? What to say? What to say?_

His eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “We should go!” he exclaimed, his excitement causing Gavin to actually look up at him.

“What?”

“Swimming!” Michael proudly declared, not missing the way Gavin’s face dropped in horror. Ignoring his expression for now, he continued. “I’ll ask about it later. Maybe we could go when Jeremy does.”

“But Michael–”

“Did somebody say Jeremy?”

“Jeez!” Michael looked in amazement at the little face magically appearing out of thin air, a pair of big brown eyes staring right at him. He turned to Gavin with half a smirk. “I don’t know how he does that but I quite like it. It’s like having a real life Alexa except this one listens to me even less and smells more.”

Jeremy, oblivious to the insults he’d just received, frowned as more important matters came to mind. “What happened to our Alexa?” he asked the two.

What had happened to Alexa? Thrown in the trash by an enraged Gus, that was what had happened to their Alexa. “Uh…she went to live on a farm with all the other Alexa’s,” Michael lied, knowing the little boy had been particularly fond of that piece of junk. 

Jeremy didn’t look convinced so Michael quickly distracted him. “Anyway Jeremy, forget about her. We’re on mission 'help Gavvy get over his fear of water'.”

“You drink water all the time –”

“Not drinking it dumbass,” Michael flicked the five year old’s ear, “swimming in it.”

Jeremy frowned once more, rubbing at his ear even though Michael had barely touched him. “I’m telling Burnie you said that word,” he said with all the threat a five year old possessed which, for Jeremy, could be surprisingly a lot.

Michael was unfazed though. He’d been Jeremy’s age once in the home and had learnt all the tricks off his older foster brothers about how to deal with baby brother bullshit. “Yeah?” he smiled, leaning close. “Well I’m telling Burnie it was you who stuffed that toast behind the bookcase. No?” he grinned wider at Jeremy’s look of defeat. “Didn’t think so, so help your boys out, pipsqueak.”

Jeremy huffed dramatically, standing on his toes to reach one of the action figures. “Ohhh…well why don’t you just come to swimming lessons with me,” he suggested, while pulling the head off the toy.

It was what Michael had already suggested but with a little extra detail. “Hey, y’know that isn’t such a bad idea. We should go to actual swimming lessons, Gav. Then you got an adult around to make sure we’re extra safe.”

“I dunno…” Gavin was still far from comfortable with the idea. Understandable but Michael really wanted to give it a try. He didn’t want to see Gavin like this. Call him selfish.

“I’m sure it’ll help!” he persuaded. “It wasn’t the water that hurt you, Gav. Water don’t do nothing. Your so-called parents are the ones to blame and they ain’t ever coming near you again. Ever. So face the fear head on Gavvy! Otherwise it’s gonna be killing you forever.”

Gavin sighed. “It’s not that easy,” he complained, but Michael could tell he was giving in and he went for the final push.

“I’ll be right there with you,” he promised. “I won’t let nothing bad happen. And I know you’re a lot stronger than you think.”

Gavin struggled with his thoughts, squirming against Michael. “Okay…” he finally said quietly. “Let’s talk to Burnie about it.”

Michael’s face lit up with joy and he pulled Gavin into a hug, kissing the boy on the forehead and laughing loudly as he squealed. Michael wasn’t afraid to admit, he loved his boy. He loved all of the kids in the home but there was something different about Gavin; like he would go just that one step further to protect him from everything.

Gavin was special. And not just because he was British. Michael had been drawn to the small boy ever since he’d first laid eyes on him. Maybe even before that. Burnie and Gus had sat them all down one evening and explained very carefully to them that they were getting a child in who was slightly…different.

They said he was very scared. Well, all of them were when they first got taken into care. He was very small. Again, not unusual, Michael had been small when he’d arrived. And he didn’t speak. Okay, now that was a new one.

Michael didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t talk - unless they had no tongue of course, that would make it hard. Michael had learned to love talking and shouting and just generally being a loud mouth. He enjoyed having conversations with people of all ages; debates and even arguments at times. So when they’d told him the new kid didn’t talk…nah, he didn’t believe that one bit.

He was proven wrong instantly the day Gavin moved in with them. The boy was scared. He hid behind Burnie the whole first day and jumped at his own shadow. He was small. Maybe not short but extremely skinny and wiry. And he didn’t talk. Not one peep was heard out of him. And not just words - the boy didn’t make any noise at all. Michael wasn’t sure he even made noise to breath.

For what felt like an age Gavin had remained that way. He seemed like a nice enough kid - was alright to be around when he stopped being so jumpy all the time. But still, not a word.

Michael wasn’t having that. He wanted to be the boy’s friend. Gavin was the closest in age to him and seemed interested in similar stuff, but there was no way Michael was ever going to have a friend that didn’t talk. So Michael came up with a plan.

Plan meaning - he was going to get Gavin to talk by trying everything possible and not really knowing if it would ever work. Low and behold, his not quite a plan had eventually worked, with a little bug eating trick Michael had devised after watching the boy become engrossed in a wildlife documentary the night before. It wasn’t hard to find the bug, sneak it inside in his pocket and then pretend he’d just discovered it when Gavin was around.

It was all history after that. A history full of laughs, hijinks and general mayhem. “ _You two are a match, if I ever saw one_ ,” Burnie often told them, which Michael figured translated into: “You two fucking do my head in.”

Speaking of their antics Michael leapt out of the chair, beckoning the two to follow him. “C’mon, I wanna show you guys something.”

The two followed him up to Gavin and Michael’s room - Jeremy had been moved to another when Gavin moved in - purely to make Jeremy’s bed time easier, as the youngest would refuse to go to sleep if someone else he was rooming with was still awake. It was against his basic human rights, he would proclaim.

Michael went to his corner of the room where he kept all his random belongings, includinga clay blob he’d made on his first day of kindergarten and a small, grey rock named Mack he’d once called a pet. What he grabbed now though was slightly more high end. Grinning, he turned back around, small grey box in hand.

Gavin and Jeremy came close, curious.

Michael flipped the box around, revealing a screen. He pressed a few buttons and rewound the footage to the evening before, enjoying the looks of astonishment appearing on his foster brother’s faces.

Trevor Collins. One of the more experienced junior carers - third in command to Burnie really, which was both funny and scary to think about - was on the screen. Michael didn’t need to watch to know what was happening; he’d already watched it a dozen times over.

A quick rewind: Rooster Teeth had had a mystery for a while. Cookies going missing from the “special treat” tin in the kitchen - reserved for good behaviour from the younger lot. Burnie blamed Gus, Gus blamed the kids, the kids blamed each other and rats. Now though, now all was very, very, perfectly clear. In HD no less. Who would’ve thought? School boy Trevor up to mischief. Michael had rarely felt so pleased with himself.

Gavin watched the video to the end. “Jesus Christ.”

Michael snickered. “Pretty frickin’ great, huh?”

“How’d you get this set up?” Gavin asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t. Ryan did.”

Gavin looked doubtful. “You convinced Ryan to help you spy on the kitchen?”

“Hell no. I just paid him a months chore money to set up all the techy stuff and tell me how it worked. No questions asked.”

“…Why?”

“Why do I have do anything, Gav?” Michael shot back playfully. “For fun.”

Gavin flicked through the few other clips of cookie thievery, shaking his head in amusement. “What’re you gonna do with it?” he asked.

“Nothing. Not yet anyway.” Michael tapped the screen. “We gotta get more of this. The more we have, the more we can use for blackmail.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jeremy piped up, having finished dismembering all the action figures he’d brought with him.

Michael nodded in approval. “I knew I liked you, Jeremy.”

“You’re welcome,” the little boy replied.

By now Gavin was laughing quietly to himself, glancing behind to make sure no one else was walking by. “Michael, this could get you in so much trouble, Michael,” he said conspiratorially.

“Probably.” Michael shrugged. “But it’s not like I’m spying on the bathroom or in people’s bedrooms. Besides,” he glanced around too. “Think all the carers are preoccupied trying to make sure Lawrence doesn’t burn this place to the ground.”

“If he did, then we could live in a hotel like in that movie with all the dogs that didn’t have homes!”

Michael and Gavin both gave the youngest a strange look.

“Uhh…sure,” Michael agreed. That was the easiest answer.

Movement drew his attention back to the screen. “Heads up, looks like we got a little gossip session going on.”

Gavin peered too. “You know what you need?” he asked.

Michael shook his head.

Gavin gave him a roguish grin. “Mics.”

 

––––

 

Coffee. That’s what he needed. Good, strong coffee.

Matt - known as Peake to all who mattered - stared out of the kitchen window while the water boiled. Jack and Ryan were still engrossed in the argument he’d left them in. The two teens were supposed to be helping him with the re-painting of the shed in a waterproof coating before the weather inevitably turned poor for the final months of the year.

So far, Peake had painted one whole side and Jack and Ryan had argued about the most efficient and economical way of using a paint brush. In fact, Ryan had been so into the argument at one point that he’d stopped paying attention and painted over a window pane.

But coffee! Coffee would solve all his problems. Or at least give him a break for a few minutes. Some days Peake wished he didn't have the title of “handyman” for the home, but apparently just because he put up a few shelves in his spare time, he was qualified to take care of general day to day maintenance.

“Y’alright?” The other Matt - the one called Bragg - greeted him as he walked into the room. “The old dogs are late again.”

“Yeah, they’re still over at the department,” Trevor informed them as he walked in behind, grabbing his own mug and handing it to Peake to fill up as per usual. “I swear, they come down harder on us than the state homes. You’d think we’d be off the hook seeing as we’re not costing them any money.”

Barbara looked up from where she’d already been scrolling through her phone at the table. “Yeah but they’re always pushing us to take on more kids. They think a place like this should be able to squeeze in at least twenty five youngsters.”

The others nodded in agreement. Just because they were a private home didn’t mean they were completely free from the scrutiny of social services. They were required to go through all the checks and fill out all the paper work any regular state home had to. And they were constantly under pressure to take on more kids. It was understandable, the city struggled more and more every year to find placements for new children. But taking on more in Rooster Teeth? It kinda defeated the point of the home in the first place. Went against everything they stood for.

There was a loud bang as the youngest member of staff joined them, tripping over a lone shoe and slamming into the open door. Brushing himself off, college student Andy Blanchard bumbled his way into the group, smiling at their turned heads. “Hey Trevor,” he greeted,“you gonna help me with that furniture later?” he asked. They needed to build a new bed for Jeremy after he’d bounced straight through his old one a week ago. For now the kid slept on two mattresses piled on top of each other - which social services could have their asses for if they found out. Not in line with regulations and all that bullshit.

Trevor nodded once. “Yeah, yeah, later,” he agreed, a half smile on his face, more interested in what Peake was looking at - which was Jack and Ryan, who were now being told to shut up by a disgruntled Geoff.

“Later,” Andy repeated slowly, clearly not satisfied with the answer by the way he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He tried another route. “C’mon Matt help a brother out, I was hoping to have time to play some games with the kids.”

Peake saw the other Matt scoff and shake his head. “Dude, it isn’t even two o’clock yet and you’re already wanting to sit around and play games? Do your job. Jeez,” he reprimanded, giving the young man a not so soft shove on the shoulder.

Andy looked confused, and then downcast. Glancing around the room once more, he hurriedly made his exit.

It was quiet as he left - the carers rarely used a break to talk - it was their one moment of peace in an otherwise hectic day. However, after a moment, Trevor spoke up again, directing his question at Matt. “Hey, why d’you act like that to him, man?”

Matt was perplexed by Trevor’s question, and Trevor jerked his head towards the doorway. “To that braindead layabout?” Matt asked, not taking the question at all seriously.

Trevor leant against the counter, hands in pockets, face set. “So you’re just gonna be cold to him every time you see him and treat him like a waste of space?” he probed. Though his tone was still a friendly one, Peake sensed Trevor had some sort of agenda here. Barbara too, had disregarded her phone and was watching with interest.

Matt threw his hands out, even more perplexed. “How am I supposed to treat him?”

Trevor, still casual as ever, took a sip of his coffee before continuing: “I dunno, but you don’t have to be mean like that.”

“Be mean? He treats this like a Saturday job.”

“It _is_ his Saturday job.”

“So? So what?” Matt laughed incredulously. “Oh what, just cause he’s young and works here one day a week, means he gets to not take this job seriously?”

Trevor let out a sound of disagreement, turning away and rolling his eyes. The reaction confused Matt - not quite sure what point Trevor was trying to get across. Don’t get him wrong, he liked Trevor. The younger man was fun to be around but also deceptively intelligent. The guy could’ve taken any job he wanted with his qualifications. Almost did, but last minute personal desires had him changing his mind and instead he chose to work in a children’s home.

“ _Honestly, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else._ ” Trevor had told him one day, not long after Peake had started. “ _They become your life, as they should._ ”

“Well, we’re technically a company, you’re gonna get interns who are just here for the experience,” Barbara added her two cents. “They aren’t sticking around. We don’t need to make proper friends.”

“Why not, hmm? Why can’t you?” Trevor questioned, mouth quirking into a half smile, eyes still ever thoughtful. “Shit, just cause this job pays well, don’t mean it’s popular. People have pre-misconceptions without you scaring them away. They think kids in a group home are all scamming, lying, out to cause nothing but trouble. We know they’re nothing like that, so why can’t you try and make this a more welcoming place to work?”

_Huh, I guess we have been through quite a lot of work experience students,_ Peake decided. Ones which they’d never heard from again. _But that’s not our fault, is it?_

Matt sighed, at a loss. “Cause he’s here only to play games?” he tried.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be like that if you give him a chance,” Trevor argued back immediately. “You can’t tell me that you’re giving this place a good reputation by acting like an asshole to kids like him. Y’know he could’a gone to any number of places for work experience, less demanding and intimidating ones. A kindergarten or a day care center. But he came here.”

Trevor regarded the room, brown eyes taking in all the faces that currently hung off his every word. “You act like you need to be all stiff necked and serious for this job but that’s not what it’s all about, is it? You need guys that care, that’s first and foremost. Guys who care and’ll look after these kids like any family member would.” He chuckled lightly, almost with fondness. “Maybe he’s an idiot and maybe he’s lazy, but that guy cares about these kids. And he treats them like he should, like this is just a normal family home, and he’s the braindead, layabout older brother.”

“Trev…” Matt began but Trevor held up a hand to indicate he wasn’t finished.

“You think the kids care about how many reports we fill out or how much training we undergo? No, they just want as much attention as possible from people who care. That’s what they need,” he insisted, heartfelt. “Andy cares and that’s what matters. The professionalism…well we can work on that later.” He took in a deep breath, a teasing smile returning to his face. “That goes for some of you too.”

A pause, and then the three laughed. Peake saw from the expressions on Matt and Barbara’s faces that they felt the same way. Trevor, for all his childish antics and easy going nature, could fucking talk the good talk when he wanted to. Peake had no problem envisioning the guy running the place one day. Hell, he’d have no problem with that whatsoever.

Trevor laughed with them, obviously pleased they’d at least taken in his message. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m hoping the kid’ll stick around after his time’s up. We could use good people. It’s the least these kids deserve.”

“Too right.” Trevor met Peake’s eye and bowed his head a little in gratitude. Peake narrowed his eyes coyly. “But you need a mirror when you talk like that, Trevor,” he said, smirking. “Don’t think we don’t know about your little forays into the kitchen to steal the treats belonging to these children you care about so much.”

Trevor shook his head as laughter erupted again. “C’mon,” he pleaded. “A man needs his cookies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really enjoying writing this and getting into the habit of doing it everyday. Thanks once again to those who have left kudos or commented!


	5. Chapter 5

_“If you can do school, you can do a nine to five.” - Jack_

 

“So Amy was like - _Geoff_.”

“I’m listening.”

“Hmm, so Amy was all like…”

Okay, so that was a little white lie. Geoff wasn’t listening, hadn’t been for the past ten minutes. Tina was a great girl, really. Beautiful, popular… beautiful, like fucking _hot_. She was prime real estate in the senior year dating market. And she had chosen Geoff - not Will Ericsson or Colton Bowers, two guys who you might say were the most eligible to be interested - she had chosen Geoff. What could he say? He could be a charming motherfucker when he wanted to be.

But God damn the girl liked to talk. Non-stop, about everything that occurred in her life, not sparing one detail and repeating everything to make sure Geoff knew it was her brown, _not_ red shoes she had been wearing when she took her dog to the grooming salon to get a little bow put on its dumb head.

_Adorable_ , Geoff reminded himself. Rocket - the shit zoo or whatever it was - was adorable. With his beady black eyes, manicured claws and teeth that always went straight for Geoff’s ankles. _Little fucker. It’s not like I’ve ever disrespected him or anything._

At the weekend Geoff had happily envisioned dropkicking the mutt over Tina’s garden fence but managed to talk himself out of it, deciding that it might not be a good early impression to make. And early it was in their… _relationship_?

Did this count as a proper relationship yet?

Eleven days. It had taken eleven days to bag himself a little lady friend. Nine if you only counted the school days but Geoff wasn’t. He knew just as much work had to be put in outside of school, if not more. A master of his trade if nothing else.

Finding a girlfriend in high school? It had never really been that difficult. Not for Geoff anyhow. He’d had various girlfriends since middle school. Hanging onto them - now that was the harder part. People were so fickle in high school, whereas Geoff usually got it into his head that this was “the one” after about a month.

Ryan called him a lovesick fool more often than Geoff felt was reasonable. What did that kid know anyway? It wasn’t like Ryan had ever had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. The boy was far more interested in Geoff’s relationships than was healthy, taunting him and mocking him about the current one whenever he got the chance. _Dick._

His old car shuddered as he changed gear - shivering like it also felt the cold from the Fall weather that had finally arrived the day before. Soft splashing water droplets hit the windshield as Geoff drove onwards. They were going to the movies - seeing some rom-com Tina wanted to see. Geoff seriously hoped it wasn’t as bad as the tagline made him believe. “True love has never been truer.” Fucking really?

“Dani came over and was all - Geoff.”

“Mmm.” Geoff put just enough emphasis on the sound to make it plausible, although he could begin to sense a hard stare burning through his skin. Nevertheless, Tina carried on talking. Geoff leaned forward in his seat as the rain fell harder, blurring out the road ahead. The skies were overhung with a blanket of grey, so much so that he could barely tell the difference between the sky and the clouds. It was strangely calming, watching the raindrops race down the window, briefly getting excited when he saw a puddle coming up. Even better if there was a douchebag from school next to it.

He briefly tuned back into what Tina was saying just in case she was addressing him directly. “And so she was all…”

Nope. Still safe.

Geoff squinted ahead, making out a shape moving in the distance next to the road, slowing down in case it decided to make a move across the street in the poor visibility.

“And I said to Amy - Geoff? Geoff, are you listening to me?”

He didn’t even reply that time, too interested in the shape, which he could now make out as a person. It was a boy walking alone in the rain - no coat, just a dark hoodie and jeans which were already soaked through. He looked in no hurry to get out of the bad weather and as they drew closer, Geoff immediately recognised him. “Lawrence?” he said to himself.

Lawrence and the other middle school kids should have been picked up a long time ago by Barbara or Trevor. Unless the boy had detention again but either way, he was not supposed to be here, alone.

“Geoff!” Tina eventually snapped at his blatant dismissal of her enthralling tale. “Have you even listened to a word I’ve said?”

“Hey, sorry. But that’s one of the kids at my home,” Geoff murmured, not taking his eyes off the boy, worried he might blink and the figure would be lost to the watery haze the rain was kicking up.

Tina looked, and then turned back. “So?” she asked, clearly not at all concerned or caring.

“ _So_ , he’s not meant to be walking that way. He should’ve been picked up over an hour ago.” Geoff said while ideas rushed through his head on what was the best course of action. He could call one of the carers…

Next to him, Tina ruffled in her seat, like a disgruntled bird puffing up its feathers. “ _So_ , I still don’t get why that’s so important.”

She didn’t get it but Geoff wasn’t about to waste time to explain. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Lawrence to offer her a sincere apologetic smile. “But I can’t just leave him out here. I am the oldest so I kinda feel responsible. Maybe it’s better if we do this another time? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

He was met with complete and utter silence. That was new. Geoff gulped, unsure if this was a good or bad sign.

When she did talk, it was robotic. “Okay sure, whatever you want Geoff.” And before he knew it, she unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door before he’d fully stopped.

“Tina come on!” He cried out as he slammed his foot on the brake. His pleas had no effect as she stormed out into the rain, phone against her ear, no doubt calling one of her girlfriends to tell them what a shit head Geoff was. “Ah, shit.”

_Whatever. I’ll make it up later._

With that over, he drove on until he was level with the boy, rolling down the window and calling out in a friendly, casual tone as if he were scared of startling the kid; even though he knew it would take a hell of a lot more to get a flinch out of him. “You off somewhere, Lawrence?”

As expected, for his part, the boy did a brilliant job of not looking surprised to see Geoff. Not stopping, he continued walking down the sidewalk, hands in jean pockets, head returning to the ground once he’d seen who had been calling him. Droplets of rain dropped down his sodden hair onto his forehead and face. His clothes and backpack were completely drenched and Geoff doubted any schoolwork or text books wouldn't be ruined - if the boy actually had any with him.

“Just wanted a walk,” Lawrence replied, voice not giving away anything, keeping his gaze ahead, neither speeding or slowing his walking pace. Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected. _Easier to deal with than Mr. Angry, Enraged and Punch-You-Where-It-Hurts,_ Geoff figured.

“Uh huh,” Geoff nodded his head slowly, leaning over the passenger seat, his forearm against the door as he put on his hazard lights on to continue to match the walking pace. “Any idea where to?” he asked.

“Not really.” Lawrence shrugged deliberately, emphasising the movement and then pointing roughly in front of him. “That way.”

“Right.” Geoff knew where “that way” was headed if you walked for another fifteen minutes or so. Straight to the main bus terminal. Ah well, he’d suspected sooner or later something like this would happen - was almost surprised it had taken this long. Back in his day Geoff had been out of the door within forty-eight hours - had run away over five times during the first two weeks.

Geoff returned his stance to the wheel, tapping out a random beat on the casing. “Well, you don’t wanna go too far that way without a proper jacket on in this weather.”

Lawrence sniffed, shaking his head like a wet hound, leaving him no less wet. “I’m fine,” he replied slowly, insistent, not angry yet.  


“Never said you weren’t.” A half smile swept across Geoff’s face - one that only appeared when he didn’t know how else to react. His eyes were sympathetic though. No matter how tough and unflappable Lawrence acted, Geoff couldn’t help but see him for what he was. An eleven year old kid - mature beyond his years but still…an eleven year old kid all the same.

Geoff had a certain soft spot for kids old beyond their years.

“C’mon,” he tapped the outside of the car door with his hand, uncaring about the rain plastering both him and the interior of his beloved car.

Lawrence ignored him, or at least acted like he was - still walking, one foot in front of the other like it was his mission and nobody was going to stand in his way.

“Listen,” Geoff tried again. “While you live under our roof, with me, I feel obligated to treat you like everybody else. And to everybody else, I would offer them a lift.” He paused and in that time Lawrence risked a glance his way, giving Geoff hope. “So how about I give you a lift over that way?” he asked again.

A few more paces and then Lawrence stopped, blinking beads of water off his dark lashes. Sniffing louder, he looked around - perhaps wondering how far he’d get if he ran - and then hesitantly opened the passenger door, jumping in before he could change his mind. Geoff shook his head as a splattering of water off the boy aimed straight at his face - that half of his car instantly becoming soaked too.

Geoff made a U-turn and began to drive home, turning on the radio quietly to a local station. “So…how was school?” he tried to make conversation.

“What do you care?” Lawrence threw it back, flicking through more stations, settling on one for ten seconds and then changing it.

Geoff grinned, not bothered by the rudeness in the tone like most would be. “Oh, I dunno. Call it nosy big brother syndrome.”

“You ain’t my brother,” Lawrence shot back again. “So mind your business.”

Geoff nodded, holding back his laughter. “Fair enough.” _What the hell, eh? There’s something I just find amusing about how blatantly this kid does not give a fuck about me or my opinions._

Lawrence coughed, rolling down the window to spit out of it. Geoff was grateful he at least didn’t spit _in_ the car. The boy messed about with his seat for a while, rolling back and forth, up and down, tipping it as far back as it would go before righting himself, his right leg beginning to bounce up and down tirelessly, knocking the glove box every time.

Not even those antics could draw a flinch of annoyance out of Geoff, no matter how purposefully aggravating Lawrence may or may not have been trying to be.

Geoff couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand it. The fact of the matter was he just felt a connection to this kid. He remembered the day the boy had arrived, kicking and shouting and digging his heels into the ground, wild and angry.

At first he seemed typical of the delinquent children Geoff knew passed through the system; if a concentrated version.

He was small, scrappy, greeny-grey-eyed and dark-haired. His hands were closed fists most of the time.

A pretty usual story, Geoff had been told by Burnie, for he was the only one entrusted with further details about why a new kid was arriving. The long-term staff knew the teen’s lips would forever remain sealed, and it was often helpful if he knew a bit more information.

The kid had been put into care after his father, and only living relative, died of a heart attack when he was seven. He’d been adopted initially by a couple who already had a brood of foster children. They slipped through the cracks of the overburdened child welfare office, taking on kids for the money sent. Neglected, hungry, dirty, too many children were given to them and treated as cash registers for government funding.

They weren’t sent to school, rather learning occasional random lessons from the ‘parents’ – who barely spoke English and only spoke to their children in Spanish. The couple were exposed when one of their older children went to a neighbour begging for food for his brothers and sisters.

Sent back into the system when he was nine, Lawrence was already trouble. He was disobedient, angry. He’d come back from more than one family bruised, and more than one family claimed that he was impossible to deal with without using force. He’d been with both foster families and state homes. None of them could deal with him.

A childhood starved and neglected of any attention had kept in small – even though he was no longer the skinny and undernourished kid that had been picked up from his first foster home. At eleven he could have passed for eight – and Geoff suspected like a great many small, abused children, Lawrence overcompensated with anger and force. He suspected that because once upon a time – what felt like a lifetime ago as well as only yesterday – he had not been too dissimilar. Just a too small, angry kid.

His first meeting with the boy had been an interesting one as well. Geoff had wandered into Burnie’s office while the man had been talking to Lawrence. According to Burnie, though Lawrence had shown no interest and had been acting like he wasn’t listening to anything Burnie was telling him, he jumped up the moment Geoff walked in, yelling about how this was his time and he shouldn’t be interrupted. He had cursed in English, in Spanish, all to a very bemused and confused Geoff, who’d hastily made an exit when the boy picked up one of his discarded sneakers and threw it at him.

Yeah… it was fair to say Geoff had been intrigued by the kid from the start. His mood was _so_ black _so_ constantly that the sheer energy it must have taken to maintain it was a wonder. Lawrence never sulked when he could shout. Never sat in a mood when he could stomp about and cause havoc.

“So what was your plan?” Geoff tried a different angle for conversation - one he thought Lawrence might be more willing to talk about, plus he was kind of interested himself. “Beg a kindhearted stranger for money? Sneak in with the luggage? Pretend to be with someone else’s family and hope there’s a spare seat? Or just wing it?”

Lawrence glanced over at him and gave what could almost pass for a half smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly, most possibly out of surprise from Geoff’s train of thought. Geoff suspected he was far more used to being berated rather than questioned about his misdemeanours.

“Don’t look so surprised, kid,” Geoff said, and Lawrence tilted his head in curiosity as Geoff took an exit off the main road that would take them to their neighborhood. “I did this a lot back in the day. Bit younger than you.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Lawrence said as he kicked his legs up, crossing his feet, bringing his hands up behind his head. He leaned back, head still tilted towards Geoff, in a perfectly relaxed fashion, but actually seeming interested in what the older boy had to say.

“Force of habit,” Geoff laughed. He stopped for a red light and used the opportunity to look Lawrence in the eye. What he saw there was… well, he wasn’t quite sure. But for once it didn’t seem like pure anger. He grabbed his water and took a sip while he thought about what to say. “You know I won’t stop you, from leaving I mean, if that’s what you really wanna do. Heck, it’s what I wanted to do, and it worked out, cause I ended up here, eventually. Although I did run away from here multiple times also.” He laughed again, one short bark of amusement for his past self. “It’s…it’s where I belong, cheesy as it sounds.”

As he moved the vehicle off Lawrence was still stretched out as if he were tanning on a deck chair at the beach and not soaking the interior of Geoff’s little car. A glint of something else was in his eyes however when Geoff briefly glanced over again. Confusion? Wariness? Perhaps a mixture of both.

Geoff hesitated, and then said, “Don’t run for the sake of running Lawrence, or you’ll end up running forever.”

A not so awkward silence settled on the two, Lawrence not complaining when Geoff reached over and turned the radio off. They weren’t far from home now, and the rain was easing off, pinches of sunlight breaking through the grey. For a while Geoff wondered if Lawrence was going to speak, could sense a certain energy around the young boy, and when Lawrence drew in a deep breath he half expected him to ask a question. But all Lawrence does is breathe out slowly, his breath turning into condensation on the window next to him.

Geoff’s phone vibrated. “It’s Barbara,” he said, peering at the screen. “What do you want me to say?” He thought to leave it up to Lawrence - Geoff could give them the full story later. “Oh and do me a favour,” he added before the boy could answer, gesturing to the phone.

Lawrence looked down. He sighed, but picked up the phone anyway, holding it up to Geoff’s ear. “Tell her…” he spoke for the first time since he’d got in, eyes narrowing. A few seconds, and then he murmured, “Tell her that…that she needs to buy me a new jacket.”

He’s smiling. And fucking hell if that wasn’t a surprise to Geoff, especially when he nods and the grin widens - a truly Cheshire cat grin if he’s ever seen one.

“Hey Barb,” he answers as Lawrence stretches to press the phone against his ear. “Yeah, don’t worry about that, he’s with me,” he told her before her worried babbling could get too carried away. “Nah don’t worry, I just gave him a lift cause it was raining and we kinda got distracted, sorry. We’re coming home now - not far.”

She’d hung up before Geoff had a chance to say more, probably running off to tell Burnie and Gus it was okay, they didn’t have to involve the police yet.

The rest of the drive passed quickly and before long Geoff was pulling into the circular driveway of Rooster Teeth, parking in his unofficial spot under his bedroom window and cutting the engine. The hard rain had eased into a light drizzle and a smattering of colors painted the sky in the form of a faint rainbow.

Geoff saw movement downstairs and assumed one of the kids or staff had rushed off to inform everybody they were home.

Lawrence was still sat in his seat and Geoff wasn’t sure if he was waiting for him to get out first or was unwilling to go inside and face whatever wrath was undoubtedly coming his way.

Unthinking, Geoff reached into his pocket, looking down at the boy. Lawrence met his eyes, something open and earnest there, so strange to see on his face, but then he was frowning as Geoff handed over three ten dollar bills.

“For you,” Geoff said. “Seeing as I forgot to tell Barbara to buy that jacket for you.”

“I don’t want none of your money.” Lawrence’s defences were immediately up as he replied before Geoff had even finished speaking, eyes darting around like he was expecting an ambush.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gonna be indebted to me or anything,” Geoff assured him. “Think of this as a late welcome gift, plus a little extra, so you don’t have to worry about stowing away on a bus if you do ever decide to take a trip outta town. You do what you need.”

Lawrence still looked like he didn’t trust him one bit and Geoff worried he’d made the wrong call, but he couldn’t exactly go back on it now. “You’re right, I wouldn’t just do this for anyone,” he admitted. “But you’re a smart kid and I trust the judgment of smart kids to do what’s best in the end.”

Lawrence wasn’t quite satisfied, Geoff could see it in his tense body language. The money stayed in his hand though, and after a few more moments of intense stares he was looking away and clenching his fist around the notes.

Geoff breathed out a sigh of relief, unable to not feel a bit flustered by all that. He laughed off any tension remaining, jerking his head towards Lawrence’s door. “Anyway, get the fuck outta here, motherfucker. You made me miss one date but I will never _, ever_ , miss the one with my dinner.”

Lawrence briefly opened his mouth as well, but shut it tight again just as fast. A tiny smirk appeared in it’s place as he opened the door, jumped out and slammed it shut as he ran inside, leaving Geoff still sat in his car trying to figure out what that small interaction had just meant.

 

––––

 

“Shit!” Geoff cried out later that evening as the baseball catapulted back at him from the tree Geoff had launched it towards.

“Almost,” Jack said, catching the ball and throwing it himself. He missed also.

They’d been out there ten minutes - after the rain had finally let off completely - deciding to undertake the task of dislodging the football Adam had somehow managed to lodge in the old oak tree out the back.

Usually by this time Jack would be firmly holed up in his and Bruce’s room, playing Minecraft or watching some movie or Netflix show. Tonight though, he needed a change up. Bruce might later claim he was avoiding him, and that would be true. Bruce would be perfectly within his right to call him out on it.

Jack’s a quiet kid in general - far quieter in school than he was at home. Bruce had been good for him in that sense, managing to keep him in the loop with the sociable crowds like the social butterfly the older boy was. Maybe it was stupid of them to think nothing would change once Bruce upped and left for high school.

He wasn’t necessarily being bullied.

He was just… he wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him. Getting isolated?

It’s confusing. It’s upsetting. It isn’t worth bothering Bruce about.

He thinks, more than anything, that this is how things were supposed to go. He didn’t have a lot going for him. He was on the heavier side of the other kids, he wore glasses, he knew he could be extremely opinionated at times. He was most definitely a nerd.

He had a group that he regularly hung out with but too often Jack felt they were doing it out of obligation. Because he was Bruce’s brother and Bruce had left as one of the most popular kids in school. Because they were nice kids and pitied Jack and his well-meaning but awkward ways.

Then he told himself to man up and deal with it. That there were kids out there in far worse situations who actually feared for their lives going into school each day. That his situation is just one of those things; it’s just the way life goes.

That’s why he’s out here with Geoff, because the older boy has a way of making him feel better and putting things into perspective without even realising it. Geoff just seems so much more of a complete and rounded _human_ than Jack, like he’s got all his shit figured out and nothing or nobody could change that.

“Saw you dropped Lawrence off earlier,” Jack mentioned, ducking as the ball ricocheted off the wall behind him.

“Yeah,” Geoff laughed as he almost slid on the wet grass trying to catch it. “Kid was thinking about running. I put some stuff into perspective for him.”

Perspective. Right. That’s what Jack knew Geoff was good for.

“The Great Geoff, to the rescue again,” he only half joked.

“That’s what they keep me around for,” Geoff said. There was a distant look in his eyes, blue reflecting unknown memories or emotions. “Hell, it’s a lot easier to pack up and go nowadays in this city than it was for me. Probably safer too if you think about it. Still surprised how lucky I got that none of the guys I hitchhiked with were child predators or murderers of something.”

Jack nodded, slowly. He was trying to imagine, as he had done many times, just what it would take to run away from your own family. Horrors he probably didn’t wan’t to imagine about too hard. “No, they were something far, far worse,” he replied. “They were from…Alabama!”

Geoff looked him up and down, unimpressed. “Asshole,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Anyway, it wasn’t just Alabama. I made it across half the country before I got picked up.”

“Was that by the cop who stank of weed or the cop who actually smoked a joint in front of you?”

“The latter. How else d’you think I got away so easily?”

Jack shrugged. “You’re always going on about how freaking smart you were as a kid.” He lobbed the baseball at the tree once more. “Dang it!” So close. He peered at Geoff through the corner of his eye. “Thought evading a few cops would come easily,” he jested.

Geoff looked startled, then oddly flustered. “Yeah, not when you’re tired and hungry, it doesn’t,” he replied shortly.

_Ouch_ , if that didn’t hit Jack where it hurt. He hung his head until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Geoff smiling gently at him, letting him know there were no hard feelings.

Jack still felt bad though. Sometimes it was so hard to tell with his foster siblings what sort of mood they were in. There were days when Geoff would have taken his harmless jibe for what it was, and retorted with a similar one. But there were also days when his siblings would be so caught up in the past and all that had happened to them, Jack would find himself dredging up further painful memories or experiences, entirely unintentional.

He supposed it was just another example of how he an outcast in that sense. Although Bruce was too, and Ryan, little Jeremy also. They’d loved their families with all their heart, but he didn’t see them making things awkward for everyone else. Jeremy could at times say stuff that wasn’t quite appropriate for the time or place but he had an excuse; he was only five years old.

Jack should have known better by now.

“Hey Michael,” Geoff’s greeting brought him out of his stupor. He looked across to see the eight year old marching outside in a dark blue raincoat and boots, hair extra curly from the earlier rain. He came with baseball bat in hand, obviously here to help with their pitiful attempts. “How’s it going, kiddo?” Geoff asked, fondling the brown mop playfully.

“School sucks,” Michael replied with characteristic bluntness.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, handing the bat to Geoff. “My teacher hates me.”

Geoff shared an amused glance with Jack. “How’s that?” he asked.

Michael looked away. He dug his hands into his pockets, kicking up the ground beneath him. “He made me stand outside the whole afternoon,” he grumbled. “And then I had to apologise to the class for disrupting them even though I wan’t doing nothing!”

“So you disrupted the class by doing nothing?” Geoff repeated dryly. “That sounds very unlike you, Michael.”

“Yeah, spill,” Jack added, smiling a bit. Michael’s mannerisms and story telling often made even the dullest tale entertaining.

Michael stared down at the ground some more, then looked back up at the older two with something almost mocking in his eyes. “I might have got out of my seat at one point…”

“And…?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

“And crawled around on the floor to be like a spy,” Michael said, voice mischievous. “Like James Bond.”

Jack racked his brain to try and figure which Bond movie had the action hero crawling around in a elementary class.

Geoff, meanwhile, was already laughing, hard. “Under the tables and chairs of other students?” he asked.

Michael bit his lip - expression something wild, proud. “Yep.”

“C’mon Michael, it’s only the start of the year. You’ve got to pace yourself a little,” Geoff poked the little boy’s shoulder before crying out angrily as the ball he had just batted directly hit the football but only slightly dislodged it. “I swear I’m gonna kill Adam, like, actually murder his little ass.”

“Not my fault it’s so boring,” Michael defended.

“It’s school. It’s supposed to be boring,” Jack pointed out. “It teaches you how to be an adult and deal with boring jobs. You’ve gotta start treating school like a job. If you can do school, you can do a nine to five.”

That’s why Jack knew he had to get over whatever he was going through. If he had a mini breakdown each time he suspected someone was whispering behind his back, he was hardly going to cope in the real world.

“Yeah well I’m not gonna have a nine to five,” Michael began, fetching the ball again and getting ready to throw it to Geoff. “I’m gonna do something better. Just don’t know what yet. But better.” He sighs as Geoff misses again, stalking over and snatching the bat off the eldest, handing it to Jack.

“Now that, I can relate to,” Geoff agrees, only slightly miffed about his demotion to ball fetcher. “Least you’ve got another ten years before you have to decide what you’re gonna do with your life.”

“Aren’t you going to community college to become a…a tractor or whatever with builders?” Michael asked.  


“Contractor - and no, I don’t know. That was just an idea. I’ve got a lot of fucking ideas these days,” Geoff said quietly.

Jack frowned. He thought Geoff had it all figured out also - knew where he was going and what he wanted. But the last he’d heard was that the older boy wanted to become a journalist, was aiming for a scholarship to get into the more prestigious city school.

Jack had thought that was a great idea. Geoff was good with all people and had way of getting them to open up. He was also witty with his words and knew how to tell a story. Was that just an idea too?

“You could work here,” Michael piped up, hopeful. “Then you wouldn’t ever have to leave!” He raised the baseball in the air and Jack nodded, readying his stance.

“Jesus, no. I love y’all but I gotta get out at some point,” Geoff instantly rebutted the idea. He whooped with joy as Jack’s shot finally knocked the football to the ground with a satisfying _thunk._ “C’mon! That’s what I’m talking about! Fucking A!” he yelled, high-fives all around.

After the celebrations, Michael pouted. “What’s wrong with here?”

Geoff huffed out a laugh. But he wrapped an arm around Michael’s neck and pulled him into his side. “You’ll understand someday when you’re ready to make your own way in the world,” he said as Michael wriggled and escaped, wildly grinning.

“Here he goes again,” Jack said. “Uncle Geoff with his words of wisdom.”

“I’m just saying…” Geoff said, gesturing at the home - the grounds, the building, Jack and Michael. “I can’t grow old here.”

“Umm no, you can’t, cause you get kicked out anyway once you’re eighteen,” Michael replied cheekily. He kicked at the ground some more, bringing up tufts of earth and grass. He sighed loudly, as if there was a question building up in him.

“Something other than school bothering you, kid?” Geoff took the initiative and asked before Michael said a word.

“No - yeah,” Michael continued after a moment. “I mean…maybe,” he admitted, tone turning serious.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Michael gazed up at Geoff and Jack saw the bright glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You got any idea about how to help Gav?” Michael asked sincerely.

“Why?” Geoff leapt on the question with urgency, and Jack knew why - he himself was putting on a concerned, wide-eyed look. He was protective over all his younger siblings, but none more so than Gavin. “What’s the matter?” Geoff questioned anxiously.

“Nightmares again,” Michael murmured. “Not loud otherwise I would’a woken up. But they’ve been keeping him up recently -can tell.”

_Yeah, little guy has been extra tired recently, and if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by…_

“We’re going swimming lessons with Jeremy, to try and help him not be ‘fraid of water. Burnie said it was cool,” Michael told them. “But I dunno if that’ll actually help him sleep better… or with anything.”

Geoff was silent for a moment, thinking things over. “I’m not a therapist, Michael,” he said gently.

Michael nodded, still gazing up hopefully. “But you can help, right?” he asked, unable to help himself. “You _always_ help.”

Geoff gave him a helpless look as tossed the ball in his hand. “I’d be no more help than that lady he and James see. Less,” he pointed out, and Michael dropped his head.

“Nicki,” he said. “She’s nice but Gav… he don’t wanna speak to her. Burnie and that already tried. He only speaks to us and then they tell her what he’s said and she gives advice.”

He said it proudly, like he was happy he was in Gavin’s trusted circle. Jack wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing - great, to be trusted and all - but the fact that Gavin trusted so few…

Suppose that’s what you got from a kid who didn’t even know his own last name when the authorities found him.

“I’ll…I’ll talk to him,” Geoff said eventually. “Maybe take him down to the bags, see if I can’t get him to open up some more or at least let some of his feelings out some way.”

Michael nodded, not quite satisfied, but happier. “That could help,” he replied. “It helped before.”

_Helped us all_ , Jack thought.

Geoff smiled a little, but Jack could tell he felt strained under the unintentional pressure Michael had just thrust upon him. His reward for being the eldest, Jack supposed.

“Baby steps, Michael,” Geoff reminded the boy. “As long as he’s going forward that’s all that matters. Kid was used as some sort of lab rat for their sick experiments for years. You don’t just bounce back from that, kid, you know that. And I know you two are tight but he hasn’t really been here all that long. Don’t be expecting too much from him.”

“I know. I just wanna help in any way I can,” Michael replied, innocently. “I won’t hurt him none.” He seemed awful sure of that, unaware that his actions might have any sort of consequence.

“I know,” Geoff assured him. “Just…just try not to push him too hard, okay?”

Michael’s face softened, frown lines vanishing from his forehead. “Yeah… he’s strong though, stronger than he thinks.”

“Never truer words,” Geoff agreed.

Jack shook his head, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Damn, he’s the toughest kid here and he doesn’t even know it.”

Michael looked at him pointedly, the mischievous glint returning. “Good. He’s already the cutest and most lovable, blah, blah, blah. We don’t need his head getting any bigger,” he ranted, throwing up his arms in a ranting gesture. A moment later his face lit up and he tapped Geoff on the arm. “Hey Geoff, talking of people who are supposed to be all innocent, that reminds me. Trevor –” 

“Hold that thought,” Geoff cut him off, staring hard through the closest window. “I see something that needs Burnie’s immediate attention.” And without another word he was hurrying off leaving behind his startled younger brothers.

Michael walked to where Geoff had been standing and stared in the same general direction. Jack watched as the frown returned and then was replaced by a look of exasperation.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Lawrence.” Michael replied simply. “Drinking a beer.”

Jack let out a laugh of disbelief and had a look too, squinting through one window and out the one of the other side of the house. There indeed, at the front of the house, was just that.

Beside him, Michael let out a groan of despair, odd coming from a boy so young.

“This place, I swear,” he said. “It gets crazier every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy to see people are enjoying reading this little thing. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

_“Whatever you think of before you go to sleep is what you dream about. Everyone knows that.” - Jeremy_

 

 

Elyse shut the door behind her at just gone two in the afternoon. It was a clear day. After the persistent bad weather for the past few weeks, heavy rain and cold winds, she had been invited to join the others in a traditional local pastime, which was a surprise, to say the least. She still wasn’t quite sure where she stood in the others standing; _friends_ seemed a little overly familiar and Elyse was never one to assume people thought highly of her.

Then again, they had all been very pleasant and welcoming to her over the almost two months she had been living with them. A few hiccups here and there but she was getting used to living in a foster home. Well, as used to it as you could. Even her relationship with James had been good since their outburst a few weeks ago. The blue eyed boy hadn’t exactly apologised to her, but he’d been on his best behaviour since and didn’t seem to mind her hanging out.

She walked down the quiet suburban road that lead deeper into the heart of the middling sized city, kicking up the brown and yellow leaves that littered her way. The outing had been kind of last minute; Adam had told her he and some of the others were heading out and asked her if she’d liked to come too. Being in the middle of dreaded math homework had meant she’d restrained herself from leaving straight away but agreed to meet up with them later.

The location was a block of concrete a mile or so away from the home, at a junction of sorts between their more affluent neighbourhood and the neighbourhood belonging to the more street wise city kids. It had once been a parking lot for a local store, but when that building had been torn down, the remaining space had been unofficially converted into a basketball/baseball/soccer site.

“ _Today though, we’re gonna be playing Bat and Tag_ ,” Adam had excitedly informed her earlier.

What mechanics were involved in a game of Bat and Tag had been kept at bay but Elyse was assured that all would become clear once she turned up. How could she resist that offer?

Arriving at the said location, Elyse was surprised to see just how many kids were present. Of all ages too, little ones younger than Jeremy through to college age, all converged into one limited area.

A fairly high wire fence bordered three sides of the concrete rectangle and rows of seating had been erected on one end, where parents and kids alike sat and observed over proceedings.

In the closest corner, where the majority of noise was coming from, stood Geoff, his arms flailing about in his mad attempts to try and control whatever was going on. As she drew closer, Elyse noticed the thin sheen of sweet that shone off his forehead, but the older boy looked happy enough - if partially stressed.

“Hey Elyse, nice to see you here,” Geoff greeted as he spotted her approaching. “Maybe you can get these lads to behave.”

“I’ll try and use my Canadian charm,” Elyse replied and Geoff let out a small chuckle before calling out something about unfair tackling to the kids in play. Elyse glanced at the small group of kids that were not in play, currently sat on the floor, leaning against the fence next to Geoff. They didn’t look very pleased. “What are they doing?” she asked Geoff when he’d finished yelling.

“Oh this?” Geoff smirked, putting his hands on his hips as he faced the group. “This right here is my naughty step, where all my little players who can’t play nice sit and think about their _actions_.”

He received a lot of eye rolls and impertinent expressions, but some of the kids actually looked remorseful, and none of them spoke back or were disobedient.

“You seem to have things under control.”

“Seem. That’s the key word there.” He pointed to the other end. “Adam, Bruce and James are over there, waiting to be tagged in, if you want to go and see ‘em.”

Elyse did as he suggested, trotting down the side of the court, mindful to keep out of the way of kids running stray or flying projectiles.

“Alright, Elyse,” Bruce welcomed her.

“Elyse! You came!” Adam cried out, as he bounced up and down on the spot, brown hair flopping all over the place, while he presumably warmed up.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Elyse replied. “What’re we doing?” she asked, looking again at the kids running and shouting.

Adam grinned. “Waiting right now. Until someone gets tagged out and we get called in. I’m next in line.

He went on to explain the fundamental rules of the game. It was sort of a mix between baseball and tag. One player would be up to bat, aiming to hit the ball as far down the court as possible with the flimsy racket thing they were provided with. Their fellow teammates would then be expected to catch the ball and run it to one end of the court. However - and this was where the tag part came in - if a player on the opposing team managed to catch and “tag” them, they would be required to stop still in their place andremain there until a teammate “freed them” - allowing the other player to take the ball off them, who would then begin charging in the opposite direction to their own “win line”.

It sounded fairly simple in theory but with the amount of kids present it all looked extremely chaotic. Elyse wasn’t at all surprised that Geoff seemed to have his work cut out, implementing his “naughty step”.

She winced as two boys of about eight collided with each other, both bouncing back onto the concrete, neither one blinking an eye before leaping up and running off again. “Yeah it can get a little rough out there sometimes,” a voice added. James had taken note of her expression and offered some reassuring words. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine if that forearm smash you performed on me is anything to go by.”

“Right,” Elyse said, relieved James was here to offer his no doubt unique means of support.

As mentioned, since their little scuffle, James had been perfectly pleasant, even happily laughing about the incident and making fun of himself for it as well, no trace of the anger and dark mood he’d held that day. _A bad day_ , Elyse had reminded herself. Fair enough, everybody had bad days once in a while.

Elyse relaxed – reminding herself that it was just a game and no one was forcing her to play it so she might as well just have fun. Like everyone else at the home, being cooped up indoors with so many other kids made her actually miss the _outdoors_ , where she could breathe and have some space to herself. True, she had her own room, but that meant nothing. There was consistently a flow of traffic through it and most of the entertainment was downstairs anyway.

That and school meant she’d been constantly surrounded by kids for the past few weeks - the quietest moments being the half hour or so before she went to sleep and the car drives with just her and Adam when they went for contact with their families at the same center.

James laughed suddenly. Loudly and manically. A laugh that could only belong to him, and Elyse wasn’t sure what was so funny until she looked and saw Geoff lying on the ground, about four or five kindergarten aged children dog-piled on top of him.

“Alright Adam, you’re up!” Geoff bellowed in between heavy gasps for air.

“Woo! Go Kovic!” James cheered excitedly as the other boy jogged out.

Elyse cheered too, feeling the rush of adrenaline surging up as she watched a play from the start.

Adam took his place, bat in hand, completely focused as the pitcher aimed and launched a fast ball. He struck, as hard as the little racket could, so much so Elyse was surprised the ball didn’t actually go through it.

The powerful strike worked it’s magic, and Adam’s team scored the winning point that round. As Adam left to the sound of cheers to join the runners, Geoff was calling out again. “On you go James. Show us what you got.” James was on his feet and dashing out in no time, dazzling grin in place.

He paused at the last moment, turning and wiggling his eyebrows comically at Elyse. “Prepare to be amazed.”

She rolled her eyes but cheered him on anyway.

Everything started off so well. James’s team also scored a point when he was up to bat and the boy was positively elated. However it was once he joined the other runners that things took a turn for the worse.

It started off small. Elyse didn’t think much of it at first. A tall blond boy on the other team, slightly older than James, was giving a lot of the orders. He wasn’t overly bossy or domineering, merely making smart calls and encouraging the team to work together like a good team captain should. 

And at first, James treated him like any of the other opposition - competing strongly but fairly while calling out a few harmless jibes. At the flick of a switch though, or at least it appeared that way to Elyse, all of a sudden James had it out for the blond.

Taunting, that was how it started. James’ playful taunts and jeers to the opposition merged into more hurtful, personal ones, aimed directly at the other boy. His face changed from happy and smiling into mocking and spiteful. It didn’t suit him one bit.

Okay, so maybe he was prone to mood swings, Elyse decided. Everybody went into a bad mood at some point. Except it didn’t end there, it only got more violent.

James’ taunts turned into shoves and trips, which turned into well aimed kicks and punches, all cleverly disguised to look as if they were just a clumsy tackle or tag, but it was clear to everyone paying attention what was really going on.

After a while, Adam had had enough, and marched over, speaking quickly into James’ ear and then, thankfully, everything seemed okay again.

That didn’t last long either.

The very next game, James’ taunts and rough tackles were back with full force, still all directed at the one tall and quite frankly confused blond.

Elyse narrowed her eyes, feeling her blood boiling under skin. She didn’t get it. James was so friendly and cheerful most of the time, like butter wouldn’t melt, and she had been eager to make friends with him. But if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was bullying. And that’s exactly what James was right now. A bully.

It made her angrier - at herself more than anything - for foolishly thinking so highly of the boy when it was becoming clearer and clearer he just had a true mean streak in him.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she chastised herself as James allowed the blond to gain one up on him before performing a complicated manoeuvre that ended up with the older boy lying on his back on the ground, James laughing hysterically above him, pointing to the boy and calling out for everybody to hear how stupid this kid was.

The blond eventually had no reply, although Elyse had to give props to him for how long he’d put up with James’ cruel antics.

Elyse moved forward as a crowd gathered around the two, tensions running higher by the second as kids and parents looked on at the scene.

James, oblivious or uncaring to it all, continued with his laughing fit, dancing around the boy in a form of tribal dance. “James… _James_ ,” Adam valiantly made a grab at his friend’s arm but James dodged, leaping out of the way and grinning like they were still all playing some grand game. Adam sighed, pain filled. He truly hated seeing James act this way, Elyse could tell. “C’mon, there’s no need for all that.”

“What? It’s all in good fun,” James retorted.

“For you maybe,” Bruce added, attempting to be a voice of reason.

James was having none of it. “Not my fault if he can’t take a joke,” he gloated, crossing his arms over his chest as the blond boy got to his feet, brushing himself down.

Elyse was outraged. “Is that supposed to be impressive?” she asked, fists clenching. “You want us to clap?”

James smirked and winked at her. “I wouldn’t be against it.”

The only reply Elyse would have had to that was a cry of pure frustration but before she could even let in another breath, Geoff was stepping in.

“C’mon,” he said calmly, the exact opposite to how everyone else was. “Let’s leave the game be for a bit,” he said to James, jerking his head to the side.

Now the anger appeared in James’ expression, his whole body tensing and tightening in rage. “Don’t tell me what to do!” he shouted, stepping back, away from the watching crowd of eyes.

“I wasn’t,” Geoff continued, ever calm. “James, I wasn’t. I just didn’t want you to hurt him or yourself.”

It was working. The tiniest amount, but Geoff’s calm approach was working. Elyse could see the doubt creeping into James’ blue eyes, the uncertainty. His breathing was slowing, the wild aura about him dissolving.

Until the ever patient blond boy tried to assist, reaching out. “Listen dude, maybe just take a breather for a sec…” He was abruptly cut off by James’ yelling once more.

“You don’t control me,” James spat, eyes immediately clouding over again. “No!” he raged. “You don’t control me!” And with that he threw the baseball in his hand with all his might, no doubt aiming to make a hurtful impact with the other boy.

Fortunately it never made it to it’s target as Geoff, and his seriously impressive lightning reflexes, shot an arm out and caught the ball mid flight. With his opposite arm he pointed at the seating area, his face firm. “James. Go and take a seat,” he ordered.

“Fuck off!” James cried out, face reddening, eyes unfocused, practically popping out of his head, movements like a big cat in a cage.

And suddenly Elyse saw. She saw what was going on.

_He’s scared._

The movements, the body language, the taunts - they were associated with offensive actions. But as Elyse took in James’ face, the look in his eyes and the way he held his fists up, she saw nothing but defensive manoeuvres and retaliations. He was protecting himself.

All her anger evaporated.

And she took a careful step forward.

“James, it’s alright,” she said, trying her best to keep the quiver out of her speech. “Come and just chill with me for a bit. I need a break.”

Silence. The whole area surrounding them was silent. Elyse could feel the gaze of more than a dozen kids as they waited to see what would happen - her own heartbeat like rapid fire. _Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom._

A harsh inhale of air broke the spell. James was staring at her, wide eyes unblinking. He breathed out, slowly, not breaking eye contact.

Elyse waited.

It paid off. After another couple of breaths, James blinked. He turned around, head hanging, and walked through the amazed crowd in the direction of the benches.

Elyse looked to Geoff who gave her a nod of confirmation before she trailed after him.

Sitting down as far away from any other spectators, James was quiet, studying his hands and fingernails intently, sniffing loudly every so often.

Elyse swallowed. “You okay?” she asked, a mere whisper.

James kicked at the ground a bit, sending up a cloud of dust. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good. Sorry.” His replies were short, terse. As if he were afraid of what he might say or do if he spoke for any longer. “I _apologize_ ,” he said the word carefully, rehearsed even. “For being…like that.”

“It’s okay.”

James glowered. “ _No_. No, it’s _not_.” His fists clenched harder, his eyes burning holes in the ground in front of him. It took a few deep breaths before he had the control to speak in longer sentences. “Being angry…it’s not me but…” His face contorted, discomforted and frustrated as he struggled to explain. Were it that he couldn’t find the words or was it that he didn’t really know the answer?

“Sometimes I lose control,” he finally settled on, jaw muscles tightening in barely concealed anger. He looked up, continuing, “Like another James takes over and there’s nothing I can do about it and it– ” He broke off, breathing out shakily, blue eyes staring across at Elyse. “It’s the _worst_. Feeling so helpless. Feeling like I can be happy and make jokes all I want, but the thing people are gonna remember most is me flying off the hook.”

“That’s not true,” Elyse replied. “I like hanging around with you cause you’re fun and you don’t care about looking silly and making fun of yourself. And you’re nice. To everyone.” _Usually._

James sensed her unease at the end, but if he was bothered, he didn’t show it. “ _You’re_ nice to everyone,” he said instead, a sad glimmer of a smile passing across his face. “And be honest, you can’t really think that much of me, especially after that one time…”

Ah, wrestling time. Elyse gave a nod of admittance. “I was annoyed, true. You _were being_ annoying.” She half smiled, allowing the warm sun to settle her nerves. “But I don’t think that was the real you either.”

“You don’t know the real me,” James said, and then a moment later, “Don’t think I do either. I know which me I wish I was but like I said, I don’t always have a choice.”

“Why not?”

The boy shrugged, a gesture that felt tired, heavy. “Think I spent too much time when I was young being controlled. I wasn’t a person, more like a thing, like an accessory to the perfect outfit, gold cufflinks to a tailored suit.” He side glanced at her, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “You’re curious I can tell but I don’t feel like telling right now. Feel free to ask Adam for the full story if you’re interested, he knows as good as the next kid.”

She probably would. Honestly, she felt too invested by now to merely let that comment slide. “You don’t mind?” Elyse checked.

“I just don’t like to dwell and –” He cut off, needing to inhale deeply again. “Sorry…” he apologised. “I – I’m not quite all here yet.”

Elyse stood up, taking that as a wordless request for her to leave. “I’ll go and…”

“Stay?”

Elyse went stiff under the other’s gaze, pleading and sorrowful. Painfully aware of her own breathing and how James was practically begging for her company as he slid down the bench to be closer to her, so close she could see the steady thump of his heart, the fabric of his white t-shirt shuddering every few seconds.

“Okay,” she said softly.

She waited. Waited while James worked to calm himself down. There was nothing verbal or obviously physical about the change. Just a sense, a lighter sensation in the air around them. Still not entirely comfortable - there was still too much hanging between them. And James was a mystery, James knew, he _knew_ he was a mystery, but now he was silent, elbow knocking against Elyse’s every so often as they watched the game he’d earlier been disrupting.

_Huh, I never did get to have a go_ , Elyse realised. Oh well, her heart certainly wasn’t in it now.

For about ten minutes Elyse didn’t speak, afraid she’d break the spell. And even when she did open her mouth she still couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the words out - it was so much easier if she’d thought James was just a bully who needed putting in his place - but instead she felt that James was the one who needed to speak first, to confirm that it was alright for them to talk out loud again.

James did eventually talk, although not to her. A woman, African, carrying a little girl no older than two and pushing another tinier baby in a stroller, was making her way to the benches. The toddler decided this was the right moment to peel one shoe off her foot and throw it on the floor, just to add to her mother’s struggles.

James was on his feet at once, going to help the woman. “Here, ma’am,” he offered her a seat on the bench having picked up the stray shoe and handed it to the toddler.

The woman nodded and smiled gratefully at him, taking a seat and sitting the girl in her lap. James naturally struck up a conversation, becoming increasingly interested once he’d learned the woman had only just arrived in the country from a small island called Mauritius.

He asked questions, answered ones, and made a lot of comments that brought a smile to the woman’s face. Elyse stayed out of it, sensing he needed this time. A bit of normalcy with someone who hadn’t witnessed his prior enragement.

“Is she afraid of me?” was one of the questions Elyse heard him ask quietly, nodding at the daughter.

The woman gave him a tiny smile. “Little bit,” she responded in a heavy accent, running a comforting hand through the girl’s hair.

James smiled back, reaching out to take the toddler’s fingers, giving them a tiny shake. The little girl latched onto him, almost memorised by his movements. “Are you afraid of me?” James asked the mother as the girl played with his fingers.

The woman smiled again, letting out a little nervous laughter. “Little bit,” she admitted.

“Yeah?” James chuckled, intrigued. “Why?”

“Mmm,” the woman thought, speaking in broken English, “Cause you look… you look like a white rich.”

James paused, tilting the toddler’s head up as she smiled shyly at him, hiding into her mother’s chest. “White rich, huh?” he mused. Then he took one look back over his shoulder, grinning at Elyse. “It’s alright…” he assured the woman, still smiling. “It don’t matter,” he murmured. “It don’t matter.”

He continued to make small talk and Elyse continued to watch him, present if only to keep her promise. But it was more than that. She was fascinated. This was a James she didn’t think she’d seen yet. Happy and hyper, yes. Angry and uncommunicative, also yes. But this James was different. He was… calm, at ease, and often appeared deep in thought. Like the calm she and Geoff had been projecting had finally washed over him, settling every fibre of his being.

She watched as James bent down, grabbing what looked like a passing strand of dried wheatgrass, lifting it into his hands and beginning to twine it around his fingers. “Baby’s tired,” he commented.

“Mmm, yes,” the mother observed the drooping eyes of her daughter. “If she plays, she will sleep.”

James hummed in agreement.

Elyse watched the game some more. A few kids were leaving now. Looking at her watch she was surprised to see she’d been there nearly two hours. They should be heading back soon.

Joyous sound caught her attention again. She hadn’t been listening properly, but the woman was laughing at something James just said, pearly white teeth dazzling as she threw her head back.

James chuckled too as he continued bending and curling the grass between his fingers, working magic on the old strand until he’d made a little flower, handing the finished product to the sleepy toddler, who immediately tried to put it in her mouth.

Adam joined her looking on at James and shared a smile with her. He was relieved too, she could see, that James had dragged himself out of that scary state.

_I wonder how many times he’s seen him like that before?_ James had said to ask Adam if she wanted to know more… she’d have to catch him alone later.

Geoff called Adam over a second later to help him collect the stray baseballs as the giant game came to a close and as his chatter with the woman trailed off she tried to catch his eye, but James’ gaze was distant, watching something else so intensely it was like he had blinkers on. Elyse turned to try and see what he was looking at. There was nothing obvious bar a boy and his presumed father. The man was trying to teach his toddler son to kick a soccer ball. They were both laughing and every time the little boy fell down the father was there right away to pick him up and try again. James was simply watching them, a wistful expression on his face. Not sad, just… contemplative.

“You ever find yourself overrun with questions inside your own head?” James asked suddenly. It was an unexpected question to hear from anyone, even more so coming from him, and Elyse was so taken aback that she offered no quick reply.

James didn’t wait for one anyway, musing to himself. “How d’you think people get to treat each other like that?” He was looking at her, genuinely confused, but at the same time his expression was still so far, far away. “We were family,” he continued. “How’d it break up and come apart so they no longer saw me as their son? Both wanting to mould me into their own ideal vision. How’d they lose that good that must’ve once been in them? Let it slip away. Scattered it, careless… How much of the bad did they pass on to me? None of it, I hope. I hope I’m nothing like them and what they did had no effect but that’s all…” He broke off, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me. And the more I think I understand about who I am and what made me this way, the less I know for sure.”

Elyse offered him no reply. She hadn’t one. But James didn’t push her and she thought that maybe that was something he’d just needed to say.

She didn’t understand a lot of it but it had sounded important, and it had pulled as something inside of her.

James leaned back on his hands, head tilted to the orange sky, brown curls on his forehead turning almost as blond as her own hair. Elyse thought he looked nice, even nicer when he turned and grinned - real, she hoped. It hit her with a sort of twinge, and out of nowhere the sudden, absurd possibility struck her that after today, perhaps she could consider herself James’ friend, having been opened up to so deeply.

But it also made her annoyed, for reasons she couldn't explain, and wasn't about to start analysing right now. But if she’d learnt anything other than rules to the game ‘Bat and Tag’ today, it was that James was more than she ever first thought possible. That much she was certain of.

 

––––

 

Dinner had been slightly tense, Gavin had noted. Something had happened between some of the others when they went out to play with the neighbourhood kids. Gavin tended to avoid going. Too many people. Too crowded and too _loud._ But occasionally he’d give in, for Michael’s benefit - the rough, fast paced game suited his friend down to a T.

Swimming had suited Michael too. The two lessons they’d attended had been raucous fun for the older boy. Michael had left Gavin with the very attentive instructor after a while, heading off to splash about and muck around on the floats in the public section. Gavin meanwhile had gained confidence by just being in the water. Their plan had worked in that aspect - being in the water, even in a swimming pool, wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he thought it might have been.

They’d been worried the first time that it might trigger some sort of flashbacks or panic attacks, and Burnie and Michael had been anxiously on hand should anything go south. It had all gone smoothly however. The warm water lapping against his skin, the laughter of other kids, the gentle voice of the instructor; it filled him with nothing but a sense of calm.

He guessed Michael had been right on that front. It wasn’t the water he was afraid of. That was good. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t. Because overcoming his fear of water was one thing, but trying to rid himself of the countless terrors inflicted upon him by his parents was another. It would have been so much easier if his problem was simply a fear of water.

That evening, he was sat with Jeremy, a piece of paper in between them, coloring in the younger boy’s doodles - a Minecraft theme today. Meanwhile he was trying to still the never-ending worry in the back of his mind that only grew stronger the closer it came to bedtime.

“Move out of my way!” Ryan was currently yelling in the hallway while he tried to vacuum past Geoff, who had kindly sat himself down on the floor right outside his bedroom, presumably for no other reason than to annoy the younger teen.

Gavin glanced up at Barbara to see if she was going to do anything but the woman wasstaring deeply into her laptop, undoubtedly dealing with emails.

A few knocks and bangs, Ryan’s signature “ _Youuuuu_ ” and then there was the pounding of feet as Geoff and Ryan ran past the doorway down the hall, the former cackling impishly. Gavin smirked to himself. Living with everybody made for interesting days but living with Geoff and his hair-brained, idiotic and a lot of the time downright absurd schemes, was like having his six years worth of missed entertainment all wrapped into one.

In her corner, Barbara swore something under her breath and slapped at the keyboard. Gavin pulled a face, amused. _Pretty sure they don’t work like that._

“Hey Gavvy, what present d’you think I should give my girlfriends?” Jeremy asked, adding more block figures to the artwork.

Gavin looked at him, pausing in his coloration of the creeper. “Girlfriends?” he queried, unsure he’d heard correctly.

However, Jeremy simply confirmed his question. “Yeah, my girlfriends.”

“How many girlfriends do you have, Jeremy?” he asked hesitantly, unsure what he was getting himself into but extremely curious all the same.

“Three.”

Gavin blinked. “Since when?”

“Wednesday.”

Gavin nodded slowly, looking around for a brown pencil and finding none, so settling on a pink bunny. “Umm… are you sure they’re your girlfriends?”

“Of course!” Jeremy exclaimed.

“But– ”

He was cut off by an exclamation of: “ _Ow_ , damn _what_ \- why is there a vacuum cleaner just lying in the hall!” Trevor popped his head round the door, scanning the room for mischief. Finding none, he asked the two: “Did Ryan come past this way?”

The two silently looked at each other, and then at Trevor. They shook their heads.

"Hmm..."

As Trevor marched off to find the real culprit, Jeremy continued. “We played a game where the girls had to run around and catch the boys and whoever they caught got to be their boyfriend.”

Oh, now he mentioned it that did sound familiar…

“So the three girls caught you?” Gavin guessed.

“No. All of them did.”

“Wait, they all caught you…but…”

Jeremy grinned up at Gavin. “I ran _really_ slowly,” he explained. “So they all caught me!”

“Why?”

With great exaggeration, the younger boy rolled his eyes. “Duh, so I could pick who I wanted!”

Again, it made sense, Gavin supposed. If you were five.

“Oh… okay. Why didn’t you pick everybody?” he asked.

“Are you really gonna ask me that question?” At Gavin’s blank face, Jeremy shook his head, like a teacher displeased with his students poor progression. “I’m not made of money. It takes work to have a girlfriend; a man has to think about their needs as well as his own. You gotta treat your woman right so they be good to you.”

Gavin put his pencil down and leaned back in his chair, frowning in confusion at the words. That wasn’t Jeremy talking. That was him repeating what he’d already heard. “Have you been watching Real Housewives again?”

“No. I just learn from Geoff.”

“Right,” Gavin laughed a little. “Of course, I should’ve known.”

Jeremy continued to ask him a myriad of questions about girls and how to please them - questions Gavin had no idea how to answer and ones he was surprised Jeremy seemed so intent on asking _him_ , of all people!

Geoff had been his original guru. _So go and ask Geoff!_

It was only when he’d been silent for a while, simply replying to Jeremy’s questions with shrugs or “I dunno’s”, that Jeremy sighed and locked his gaze into Gavin’s, serious all of a sudden.

“Hey, stop thinking about sleeping,” he instructed a little snippily.

“What?” Gavin felt caught. What had given Jeremy that idea? It was the right idea but still, Gavin hadn’t been vocalising anything. And Jeremy of all the kids was usually oblivious to the inner thoughts and emotions the others might be feeling. Nothing to do with the little boy’s personality, he was as friendly as they came, but he was just at that age where understanding your own emotions was complicated enough, let alone those belonging to others.

As it was, Jeremy snorted. “Stop thinking about sleeping. It’s not your time to sleep yet so you don’t need to worry about it.” He leaned forward into Gavin’s personal space, drawing forgotten for now, staring determinedly at the older boy. “You don’t need to worry about it anyway, sleep is fun when you’re asleep. Going to sleep is the bad part cause adults make you even when you’re not tired! But um… when you’re asleep you get to have cool dreams where you can fly and be a squirrel.”

He sounded so happy and innocent, and his little round face was so sincere, that Gavin couldn’t help but smile. “They do sound like good dreams,” he said quietly, eyes softening. “But mine aren’t like that, you know that, Lil’ J.”

“Duh, that’s because you think about bad stuff before you go to sleep. Whatever you think of before you go to sleep is what you dream about. Everyone knows that.”

“So you think about being a squirrel?”

“Well…no…” Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in deep thought. He sat back, rocking on his chair. “But I’m not thinking about bad stuff and I don’t have lots of bad dreams. So if you just answer my questions it’ll be alright cause you won’t be thinking about it.”

Gavin picked up the discarded pencil and handed it back. “Thank you Lil’ J, but you can’t always be distracting me every night. It’s not possible.”

“I can try,” Jeremy cut in, voice small.“Okay, so maybe questions aren’t the best but what about…” His face lit up with childlike excitement. “What about bed time stories?”

“Uh…”

Gavin had no time to reply as Jeremy dashed out of the room fast as his little legs could carry him. Gavin tilted his head back, able to listen to where precisely the boy was, hearing him run along the hallway, up the stairs, along another hallway, into his room and the same in reverse order as he returned. Barbara looked up at the sudden commotion but Gavin shook his head in reassurance and she returned to her work, leaving the two their privacy as Jeremy came scrambling back in, a pile of books as tall as his head in his arms.

“Here, look, these are all my best ones and normally only Burnie and Trevor can touch them but you can too!” He said in between deep exhales. “This one’s my favourite,” he dumped the load on the table and picked up the top book. “This one,” he repeated, offering it to Gavin.

Gavin took the book in his hands and glossed over the cheerful cover. “Harry The Dirty Dog…” he murmured under his breath, jumping as Jeremy snatched it back and began flicking through it, widely grinning.

“It’s awesome! It’s about –” He cut himself off, seeming to regain some self control and placing the book back on the pile. “Well, I won’t tell you what it’s about cause that’ll ruin it but you can have them… for a bit anyway. Until you’re all better and don’t have no more evil, bad, bad dreams.”

Gavin pressed his lips together and didn’t reply.

Jeremy looked up at him, worried. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want them?” he asked, voice quivering slightly.

“No, it’s…” Gavin laughed lightly, moving out of his chair and in front of the youngest.“Can I give you a hug?”

“Oh…okay,” Jeremy mumbled, hugging Gavin back tightly as the blond engulfed him with all the strength he could muster, resting his head in the soft brown locks. “What’s this for?” he asked a moment later.

Gavin stepped back, hands on Jeremy’s shoulders, green eyes barely dry. “Just cause,” he responded, still smiling warmly at Jeremy’s perplexed expression.

“Just cause what?” Jeremy asked in return, the last word morphing into a squeak at his bewilderment.

“Just cause, cause.”

“Gavin!” Jeremy huffed, pushing the blond back but still close enough that Gavin’s hands remained on his shoulders.

“Just cause…” _So many things._ He exhaled gently, bending down so he was level with Jeremy’s gaze. “I’m glad I have you as a little brother, Lil’ J.”

Jeremy froze, lost for words for once. “Ohhhh,” he said in awe, slightly sheepish but incredibly pleased. And then a moment later, “Wanna go and annoy Trevor?” he suggested expectantly.

Gavin grinned, taking his hand. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really happy with this chapter - fun to write and read back! Once again, comments and kudos are much appreciated and thanks to all those who have been leaving them!


	7. Chapter 7

_“Maybe you should try locking him in a cage or, like, a pet crate or something.” - Ryan_

 

“Yes, Burnie, I promise I’ll be home by twelve.”

Geoff was leaning against the door to the head carer’s office, pleading his case while Burnie sat in his swivel chair, the steam from his coffee fogging his glasses. Downstairs he could hear the voices from Barbara and Matt, who were desperately trying to coax Jeremy into his room to go to bed. Getting that youngster into his room at this hour? Geoff didn’t envy them one bit.

“Alright,” Burnie agreed. Geoff had been hoping to go to a house party the coming Friday, hoping to maybe find true love again with a certain lady he knew was also attending, seeing how Tina had swiftly dumped him and proceeded to tell every girl at school what a jackass he was, whether they wanted to hear it or not. “But if you’re a second later your curfew will be an hour earlier for a month, you understand? I don’t care if you’re ‘nearly a man’ as you’re always telling me, while you still live with me, you live by my rules.”

“Don’t worry, Burnie. When have I ever broken a promise?”

Saying it out loud almost made him believe it. He’d broken more than his fair share of promises, to Burnie probably more than anyone, when he’d been the uncontrollable little kid that had first arrived at Rooster Teeth. It was because of those many early misdeeds that Geoff felt even more indebted to keep his word to the man who’d raised him from being a wild little brat into someone half decent.

And it wasn’t like Burnie was overly strict - quite the opposite in fact. Compared to the rules of many state homes, Burnie ran the place with a firm but flexible hand, putting trust in kids who might have been kept locked away in other homes - runaways, anger issues, panic attacks; those thought to be best kept away from society.

With a gratifying grin and salute, Geoff left the man to his business and bounded back downstairs, skidding to a halt as Matt and Barbara practically manhandled a very grumpy Jeremy up to his room, barely holding in his laughter as Matt caught his eye and pulled a face that could only read “kill me now”.

He grabbed a soda from the kitchen and made his way into the smaller living room. The lights were dimmed and the fire was alight - it wasn’t even that cold indoors but if Ryan was around, he was sure as hell going to light one. Shelves littered with books and various art projects spanning over ten years were bathed in a warm orange glow. It was Ryan and Jack who were the only ones there, taking up the two large couches, lying spread-eagled across the cushions, both quietly watching some re-run of an old wildlife documentary.

Geoff placed his drink on the side table and sat himself down next to Jack - or rather glared at the younger teen until he made enough space and sat upright to allow Geoff to sit. As he moved, Geoff noticed the slight stiffness in the action and the way he rubbed at a red mark on his elbow, instantly recalling the reasoning behind it.

Jack had been in a fight earlier, almost as soon as they arrived home from school. There was no prize for guessing who with.

Ever since his chat with the boy, it was like Lawrence had become suddenly more interested - possessive even - over spending time with Geoff. On one hand, Geoff was glad the kid was socializing more. On the other, it seemed to have made any interactions with the other kids even more violent. Like with Jack - he had thrown a fit when the thirteen-year-old had interrupted the two talking about new movies coming out to ask Geoff a question about homework, furious that another kid was taking Geoff’s attention away from him, though he still liked to act as if he resented any conversation the eldest struck up with him - and he came at Jack yelling.

Jack, smiling and pacifying as ever, tried to talk to him. Impossible with Lawrence, so Jack tried to ignore him.

Then Lawrence hit some sensitive spot with his words, or his small fists, and Geoff saw Jack’s mood change. It wasn’t exactly anger. Anger was not something that came easy to Jack, but it was something more like frustration and acceptance.

He’d sighed and given Geoff a resigned look before flying at Lawrence.

They fought.

Geoff made no attempt to stop it. He had stood back and made sure they didn’t cause any serious injuries, but from the start it was apparent that, though they didn’t pull any punches, they were hardly hurting each other as badly as they could have.

They ended up scratched, bleeding, tired, rolling around on the grass unwilling to surrender.

Lawrence came out on top because Jack had no real anger in him and had been warier considering he was far the taller of the two, if not the better fighter. Even the frustration Geoff had seen light up in him had been temporary. A flare to Lawrence’s slow-burning raging candle.

But Lawrence didn’t beat him with any childish smugness. There was no victory in him when he rolled to his feet and held out a hand to Jack.

The two of them recognized something in each other at that moment; that was clear. But just what hadn’t been apparent at the time.

After it was all over Lawrence had skulked off, leaving the home and not returning by late that evening - unescorted by police… which had been a twice occurrence so far, when he’d been causing disruption in town. But apparently, half an hour before Geoff had come back, he brought himself back of his own accord, no shouting or swearing, quietly alerting the staff to his presence before heading to his room. Silent, unflappable, not acting out in any way.

And Jack - Jack who never fought with anyone in that manner, who was all about having a good time and making people happy, who was basically a cuddly teddy bear at all times… the experience strangely seemed to have kind of positive effect.

That look. His look of resignation and acceptance before flying at Lawrence.

It had caught Geoff off-guard. _He understands, I think._

That was the line that had stuck in Geoff’s head. After the scuffle was over, and Lawrence had taken himself away, Jack went and sat on the terrace, leaning arms over thighs as he caught his breath back. Geoff had joined him, albeit slowly, unsure if his company was wanted after _that._ Conflicted too, not knowing whether it was a situation that needed telling to Burnie. Normally it would be a no-brainer. Fights or violence between the kids of any sort were to be reported immediately so the carers were aware and could monitor the situation. But there had been something about that fight, and the completely non-violent conclusion to it, that put Geoff in his dilemma. It was almost _too_ _personal_.

_What happened back there?_ Was the question Geoff didn’t need to voice for Jack to answer.

And there it was. “ _He understands, I think. I don’t know how but I think we both just…know._ ” Jack had laughed, realising how vague he sounded but making no effort to explain further. The minor scratches on his arms had stopped bleeding, yet he still rubbed absentmindedly at them, finding a meaning only visible to him.

Geoff had twisted to look at him questioningly. He felt more out of the loop than he normally did. “ _I don’t think_ I know _what you’re talking about._ ”

“ _And hopefully you never will_ ,” Jack said, running a hand through disheveled hair. “ _Or at least not in those circumstances. Not like that…_ ”

Geoff had exhaled shortly out his nose, head shaking in bewilderment. “ _You worry so much about stepping on our toes but you’re just the same. We all have our secrets. We all have our limits, our boundaries,_ ” he pointed out. “ _You’re one of us, whether you like it or not, nothing’s gonna change that._ ” From the look on Jack’s face, he hadn’t seemed completely sold on the idea, and Geoff had shoulder nudged him. “ _Just something to think about,_ ” he said as he left Jack to his thoughts and battle wounds.

He hadn’t seen the younger boy since then. He’d been around a friend’s for dinner, the same friend who’d invited him to his house party, and had only recently arrived back.

Noticing his stares, Jack shifted in his seat, consciously moving his hand away from his injuries. “Should’a seen the other guy,” he said.

“I did. He looked better than you.”

Jack smiled. There was that strange expression on his face again, understanding, one of remembrance. Geoff wondered, suddenly, if he’d made the right call for keeping the fight from the carers. He supposed he could tell them at a later date if things took a turn for the worse, but then he’d feel like it was his fault for not saying something sooner and plus, there might have been other little eyes spying on them, and if they went to Burnie or one of the other carers first, that might cause them to lose the hell of a lot of trust they already put into Geoff.

Jack cleared his throat then, swinging his legs up so he could curl further into the couch corner. “Yeah… well, I went easy on him. Can’t be seen to be bullying little kids now, can I?”

Geoff glanced at him, torn between playing along with the banter and wanting to push further for an explanation. “There was only one bully back there…” he started to tease, cutting off as the words caught in his throat. “Jack –” he stared, only to practically jump out of his skin at the little voice suddenly at his side.

“What do they mean when a woman’s size zero?”

Jeremy! But wait… hadn’t Geoff seen him…

“He snuck in about twenty seconds ago,” Ryan mentioned from the other couch, nodding towards the ajar door. “About twenty seconds after Matt and Barbara came downstairs to go home.”

Geoff looked at Jeremy, the five-year-old who was currently clambering up onto the arm of the couch, clad in Spiderman pajamas and most definitely _not_ asleep in bed. He came accompanied by his two favorite teddies. Rimmy - an orange-furred bear that had seen better days, and Tim - a little purple owl with massive eyes, that Trevor had bought for him when they went to the zoo. Its pupils had been scratched off over time, giving it a blank, haunted stare.

Geoff shook his head in amusement. _Ah well, someone will find him soon enough._

Jeremy frowned, poking him in the arm a few times. _“_ What do they mean when a woman’s size zero?” he asked again.

_Size zero… What?_ Geoff looked at the TV to see if Jeremy had gained that question from what was on screen but the only thing happening was penguin chicks sliding about trying to get into the ocean water. _And none of those fluffy motherfuckers are worried about their dress size._

As Jeremy climbed over the arm and onto Geoff’s lap, Jack opened his mouth to answer only to be cut off immediately by the boy continuing: “Because zero’s nothing! So… then they’d be invisible,” he said with great conviction.

Ryan smirked, peering at the two as Jeremy settled himself further into Geoff’s lap. “It just means she’s _very_ skinny,” he said, quickly adding: “But a woman can be any size or shape she wants.”

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment. “What about a star shape?”

There were multiple noises of amusement coming from all three teens at that statement but Jeremy was unfazed by it all, tilting his head further in curiosity. Ryan, meanwhile, tried to rectify his statement: “No, no, I mean she could be –”

He didn’t get very far.

“Or a heart shape cause girls like hearts –” Jeremy suggested, raising his hands in the air to demonstrate.

Geoff batted them gently away. “No, we meant it doesn’t matter if a woman is thin _or_ fat,” he explained.

Jeremy hesitated. He looked at Geoff, brown eyes extremely quizzical. “What if you were like this?” he asked, blowing out his cheeks and puffing out his chest, wobbling side to side. “Would that be okay?”

There was a stunned moment of awkward silence for the little boy’s “fat” impression. “Well um - uh…” Ryan stammered.

Jeremy cut him off again, stating matter of factly, “There’s a man in Mes-Mexico and um, he has to get a crane to get him out of bed he’s so fat; is that alright?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh um…well, no…”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes, regarding each one of the teens with his firmest stare. “What is too fat?” he spoke slowly. “Is it –”

“Would you like to watch TV?” Geoff’s voice cracked in his haste to shut the boy up.

The little boy looked up at him and huffed shortly. “No.”

Well… he couldn’t get a more straightforward answer than that.

The next twenty minutes or so were spent diverting Jeremy’s attention from the topic, all three teens working together to keep him interested in the TV show rather than whatever random questions he had stored up in his head.

Eventually, their efforts paid off, with the help of a great white shark or two, who Jeremy had said “were awesome” before finally settling down and watching the show in silence. It didn’t take long for him to fall fast asleep, right there in Geoff’s lap, head crooked in the eldest’s arm, heavily breathing.

And it didn’t take long after that for him to be discovered by one of the carers. As per usual, Trevor, who joined Burnie and Gus as night staff during the weekdays, went up to check on Jeremy’s room to make sure he was asleep - as he so often wasn’t - and obviously finding no boy there, hurried back downstairs, checking in first the larger living room and then in theirs, shaking his head in both relief and exasperation at the sight.

“That little…” he muttered under his breath, stepping around to gather the youngster into his arms. “I’m sorry boys.”

Geoff grinned at the young man. “No worries, least he’s out now.” And he would stay out. Once he was gone, he was gone, thank the Lord.

Trevor arranged Jeremy into one arm, grabbing Rimmy and Tim with the other, pausing as he turned to look at the TV, pulling a face at the blood filled water and fish bits. “Hmm, nice. Hopefully that doesn’t come back to haunt us.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Geoff apologized, sheepish. He remembered a year or so ago when Jeremy had caught a glimpse of Jaws. The staff had been dealing with wet bedsheets for a good week after that. “Was the only thing that kept him interested.”

“Maybe you should try locking him in a cage or, like, a pet crate or something,” Ryan added, rolling his eyes at Trevor’s disapproving look. “I’m not serious,” he said, before turning his head sharply to Geoff. “Or am I?” he whispered harshly, putting on a menacing tone, though his eyes shone gleefully, like a child, and Geoff could only smile in return.

Trevor shook his head, giving Ryan’s head a light shove as he walked past with his sleeping passenger, at the same time as the credits rolled on the documentary, an old war movie starting up next. It didn’t take long for Ryan to lose interest; he usually liked to spend the remainder of his evenings in his room playing video games anyway.

“I’m gonna go up,” he said, stretching languidly as he stood. “See you boys tomorrow.”

“Night, Ryan,” they both murmured as the door shut behind him.

The fire was dying down by now, yet it was still toasty warm in the room, enough to entice Jack and Geoff to linger for a while more. Geoff half paid attention to the movie and half counted the number of times Jack looked across at him. The teen kept shooting glances his way, and Geoff knew he wanted to ask something. He waited, tapping his fingers on his knee until Jack finally swallowed.

“He lost a family member, didn’t he?”

“Who?” Geoff asked, surprised, thinking that Jack was referring to Ryan at first, which made no sense because he already knew the answer to that one and that was hardly a comfortable topic of conversation.

But Jack shook his head. “Lawrence,” he added, locking eyes with Geoff. There was something odd in his face, and Geoff stared intently at him. “Who was it? Mom? Dad?” Jack continued.

God. He hadn’t been expecting this, and he once again felt torn, knowing he really wasn’t supposed to give any private information away _but,_ if this was connected to earlier, which he was ninety-nine percent sure it was - wasn’t getting to the bottom of that strange fight more important?

He debated with himself for a few moments before making up his mind. “Dad. Heart attack,” he rushed out. “He tell you that?” he asked, perhaps a bit more accusing than he intended, because he saw something guilty in how Jack’s eyes flickered away and shoulders hunched.

“He didn’t need to,” Jack replied, face decisive. “He saw his dad die.” He didn’t say it with sadness or sympathy, more like the same realization and acceptance that Geoff had seen in his face earlier.

Saw him die? Geoff hadn’t said that. Hell, he didn’t know the specifics.

For a moment Geoff wanted to shake him. To grab him by the shoulders and let himself demand better answers so he could feel more involved. But it wasn’t his place to pry into the private feelings of the other kids - not unless it was doing them harm and, as far as Geoff could see, despite the fighting, what had occurred earlier had been reasonably harmless. It’s just he’s so fucking curious. Sure, Lawrence. But Jack? Jack resigning his good nature to fight with another kid? Just a whole lot of God damn curiosity.

“You think you’re better than me but neither of us saved them,” Jack suddenly said.He smiled as Geoff’s eyes widened. “That’s what he said,” he clarified. “That’s what made me… feel like I had to go at him - not in anger,” he hastily added. “Just something we needed to sort out. I think he wanted it… was pushing me to see if what he’s probably heard around here was true.”

Geoff stared at him for longer than was natural, taken aback by the way Jack had abruptly revealed what Geoff had been wondering all along. “Heart attack if I recall. When the kid was seven.” What the hell, he might as well tell Jack the rest of that limited story. The kid was hardly going to go blagging about it to the others. He felt a tinge of guilt, that he might have been violating Lawrence’s privacy, but the kid had kind of partially given that away, now that he knew what the boy had said to Jack to start things off.

“Jeez, that’s really tough,” Jack said, and usually the pity would be just that, pity. But it was Jack, and he’d been through it, he’d been through the worst loss imaginable.

“Mmm,” Geoff grunted and took a deep breath. “I don’t think that’s what’s making him so angry here though.”

Jack stirred as if waking from a dream, shrugging slightly. “Can’t have helped though, could it?”

“No…no, it can’t have,” Geoff agreed.

“What you said earlier… about me worrying.” Jack gulped, tongue like he suddenly wanted air, wanted to get out, to change the subject, but pushing through anyway. “… Do you ever resent me for it?” he asked in a small voice. “For having a family who, y’know… who loved me?”

Geoff stared at him. “Fuck no,” he said, shocked and frowning. “Why would you even ask that?” It came out harsher than intended and Jack cowered in on himself.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he whispered, jaw clenching.

Geoff gave him a considering look. Then he reached out an arm - Jack jerking back automatically in surprise, calming down when he saw the softness in Geoff’s eyes. “Hey, no, I’m sorry,” Geoff apologized instead. “I was just a bit shocked by the question. Do I ever come off that way?”

“No, but… I don’t exactly make things easy for myself.”

“What do you mean?” Geoff knew Jack worried about tiptoeing around certain subjects, more than Geoff would have liked, but he’d thought that was just how the younger teen was. A people pleaser through and through.

“Just by, like,” Jack murmured, biting his lip, "opening my big mouth and hurting people when I don’t mean to. I never _mean_ to.”

Geoff sighed. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jack’s jaw clenched again, lips pursing like he tasted something sour.

“You think _you’re_ hurting us? Jack…” He reached out again, this time able to put a comforting hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, and he spoke in earnest. “None of that’s to do with you. Sometimes things happen and people - everybody, not just you - say and do stuff that has an effect on us. Takes us back for the briefest of moments. But that ain’t your fault. No…” His own fists clenched slightly in conviction. “No, that ain’t your fault at all. That is, for me, my good-for-nothing parents fault. Same goes for a lot of us.”

Jack swallowed. He didn’t answer, and when Geoff looked over at him, his head was lowered and his hands twisted into the fabric of his t-shirt. So tense he was nearly shaking. But Geoff couldn’t stop now, couldn’t stop when Jack still looked completely and utterly unconvinced about his own self-worth.

He reached his arm further around the boy’s shoulders, a position he had taken so many times when his younger brothers were upset. Each of those times he could only speak from his heart, that was the best he could do, he never saw himself as some great motivator or emphasizer. _I’m not a psychologist, but I am their big brother. And I care._

He breathed deeply, leaning his head in close. “Just because you’re not here because your parents were assholes doesn’t mean we resent you or despise you for it, or whatever other crap you’ve conjured up in that big head of yours. In a way, it’s way harder for you, because _you had_ a great life before, and it must’ve hurt so much more to have it taken away.” He scoffed a bit. “And be honest, there must have been loads of times when one of us has done the same to you, unintentionally made you feel bad or sad about the past.”

“I dunno… yeah, I guess.” Jack was side-eyeing him like it was some kind of trap.

“Tell me.” Geoff urged.

“What?”

“Tell me. I want to know what I’ve done to make you feel like that. Drop it on me.”

“It’s nothing _you’ve_ done personally,” Jack muttered, and Geoff had to selfishly admit that made him feel better about himself. “I uh –” Jack huffed in frustration. “It’s dumb.”

“I think it’s dumb some harmless comment someone makes can cause me to feel all freaked out for a few seconds,” Geoff pointed out. “Just cause you may think something’s dumb, doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “When… when you guys… the youngin’s, I mean,” he spoke, soft and tentative. “Y’know, they can get rowdy on longer car journeys and… not all the time, but sometimes I _feel…_ ” His face twitched. “All nervous and out of control and I can’t help thinking back –” He broke off and attempted to laugh it off, the sound coming out very forced, his cheeks reddening. “See?” he looked up at Geoff. “Dumb.”

Geoff shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Jack Pattillo. You went through a horrific trauma at seven years old that most folks don’t experience in a lifetime. You lost your mom, your dad, your little sister; all in a blink of an eye. You were thrown into a world with kids you thought would resent you for coming from a good family. And yet here we are, everybody here loves you. You’re kind and friendly, easy for everyone to talk to and, I might add, you give the best fucking hugs ever.” He added on to that part by tightening his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, adding: “Hey, you even achieved something I haven’t yet - you somehow connected on a deeper level to the angriest kid currently here. That’s you. That’s all you, kid.”

Jack was silent, stunned. Geoff couldn’t blame him. They loved each other and all, brothers to the end, but like brothers, sometimes talking about the hard shit didn’t come as easy. Eventually, Jack did nod, slowly. He slumped back against the couch, and Geoff rather awkwardly sat there, all his energy having gone into his passionate speech, and now he was all aware of what he’d just said and how full on it might have sounded. He part expected Jack to leave - but he just sort of _lounged_ there, seemingly comfortable to be there, next to Geoff, in a companionable silence. After a few moments, Jack relaxed enough to release some of the tension from his body. As he did though, he drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Unable to meet Geoff’s gaze, he shakily breathed out. “I miss them _so_ much sometimes.” Geoff leaned around to see tears glistening behind the boy’s glasses. Now that he’d released all the tension, it seemed like it had been the only thing to keep him from breaking down, and Geoff instinctively wrapped the boy in a proper hug as he shook and cried out quiet sobs of pure pain.

“I know,” Geoff said into his ear, blinking repeatedly. “I miss them for you, cause they must’a been freakin’ awesome guys to raise a kid like you.”

To the outside eye, the emotional outburst may have appeared out of nowhere, but Geoff had noticed over the past few weeks, troubled thoughts building up in the younger teen.It could have and probably had been just a load of small things, all building up to this moment. Maybe the fight with Lawrence today had been the breaker. Either way, at some point, Geoff knew all that emotion was going to be released one way or another. That it could grow and grow and spill out, catching you unaware at the most inopportune moments.

Nights too. Nights were always somehow the hardest. They were often the quietest part of the day. More time for reflection, easy to get caught up in your own head once the day was over and only sleep and dreams awaited.

He’d been there too, he recalled, not letting go or loosening his grip and Jack still cried quietly into his shoulder. Oh yeah, he’d been there many-a-time. In the end, there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Yep, some nights just freakin’ sucked.

 

––––

 

So he’d been getting on well with school. And swimming. He’d made friends in both places, and his week had been… good. Good as in not excellent, not awful, just very neutral. Perhaps ‘okay’ was a more apt choice of word. He’d had an okay week.

Geoff approached him one day after school, took him by the hand and lead him down to the basement without even asking. Gavin put on the smallest pair of gloves while Geoff grabbed the bad and held it ready, and they started to practice the simple exercise they’d gone through many-a-time, all without saying one word to each other, the only sound coming from Gavin grunting every so often due to the pure physical exertion.

They were silent until it was over fifteen minutes and Geoff had gone to get a snack and a drink for them both, orange juice and some Tim Tams Barbara had brought back from her travels, and somehow they ended up talking about nothing in particular, at one point just bouncing back and forth dumb ideas for presents for Ryan’s upcoming birthday - Geoff seemed weirdly keen on the idea of buying Ryan a full set of bedroom furnishings, duvet and pillow cases, cushions, blankets, but with a twist; they would all have massive prints of Ryan’s own face on them. Perfect for an egomaniac like him, Geoff had joked. They got so caught up in the conversation that they forgot what time it was and had to be called up for dinner. It had been nice, Gavin couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his mind wander so freely and so _carefree_.

Geoff made time for him most days now. Not that he hadn’t before, but it was like he’d reserved a specific time for only hanging out with Gavin. And again, their chatter was always nothing of importance. They would talk about food, movies, celebrities; a right pair of gossip girls. Geoff would tell him about the new girl he was interested in. Griffon was her name and she sounded cool, Geoff’s eyes always lit up that extra bit when he spoke of her, unlike the way they’d dimmed with some of his previous romances. Only negative: she’d already rejected Geoff’s advances twice but, Geoff would adamantly tell him, it was all part of the game.

Gavin thought the game sounded rather complicated.

He wished those conversations could go on forever. No matter how hard Michael or Jeremy tried, their attempts at trying to keep his mind distracted never seemed to work quite as well. Sure, he would enjoy their company as much as he ever did but it was always so obvious to him, that they were worried. And that just made him feel plain bad. He didn’t want to be a burden on them. Not that he was naive enough to think that Geoff’s planned get-togethers didn’t have the same kind of intentions, but with the eldest… well, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because Geoff gave off the air of having been there, done that, lived to tell the tale. His manner was always relaxing and comforting to Gavin, like he was reassuring him that there was nothing wrong with him even without saying it directly.

Because Gavin _did_ worry, a lot, that there was something wrong with him. Something that couldn’t be fixed. It would make sense. His parents had treated him like he was their toy, for them to do with as they pleased. They had been sick people, mentally disturbed, the both of them. Two disturbed people who had unfortunately found each other and brought him up in their life of “scientific research”. The only thing they ever did right by him, was leaving him alone in that hotel room for three days and not coming back, even after the fire and everyone had been evacuated, alerting the authorities to that fact that there was one small, young boy all by himself.

He thinks, when it all came down to it, that maybe the unknowingness of it all was what affected him the most. He didn’t have closure. His parents weren’t in prison or rehab or dead - or maybe they were but he had no way of knowing. They were simply an overhanging memory and the fact that they could still be out there and might one day reappear in his life… that was what terrified him more than anything.

The nights were still the worst. When he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take him so he could just get it all over and done with but dreading it all the same. 

“Gavvy? You okay?” Michael asked from his bed.

Gavin shifted a bit, pulling the duvet up higher. “Mmhmm.” It was half nine. They had school tomorrow. They weren’t supposed to still be talking.

“Should I switch the light off yet?”

Michael was the only one who had a bedside table to hold a lamp. Gavin used to have one, but more violent night terrors lead to that being taken away, less the carers wanted him to keep hitting his head on it.

“Not yet, if that’s okay,” Gavin managed. It was embarrassing, and he swallowed hard, and how could he say he wanted it to stay on all night when Michael couldn’t get to sleep if there was light in the room? That would just be purely selfish and Michael already did so much for him.

“Course, it’s okay,” Michael said cheerfully, but Gavin could tell from the lilt in his voice that he was getting sleepy.

_Five more minutes,_ he told himself. _Five more minutes and then I’ll be brave._

There was some more rustling from Michael’s side of the room, the bed creaking as the other boy moved about on it. “So… I found this earlier,” Michael said, and there was something slow and careful in it.

Gavin’s eyes widened in horror as Michael held up some of the books Jeremy had given him the other week, ones he had kept hidden under his bed. He didn’t have time to ask why Michael had been rummaging through his stuff though. “They - they’re not mine,” he lied, and Michael nodded slowly, and now Gavin couldn’t stop worrying if he was going to make fun of him, and he sunk further into his bed, hoping it might swallow him up. 

“I know. They’re Jeremy’s,” Michael replied casually. “Was wondering why you had them, was all.”

Gavin kept quiet. Michael thought bedtime stories were dumb and Gavin, having never known any better, had always tended to agree with him. Michael always said he could imagine way cooler stories in his head without the need for a book. That may be so but for Gavin… all his stories were nothing ever meant for children.

“It was just Jeremy trying to help,” he mumbled. “He was only trying to help.”

Michael didn’t broach the subject again, and part of Gavin was glad, but part of him wished he would. Part of him wanted Michael to laugh fondly at little Jeremy’s ideas, giving Gavin the opportunity to laugh too, so Gavin could show that he thought kids storybooks were dumb also. It could be their little joke rather than Gavin’s awkward secret.

Michael didn’t laugh.

Instead, Gavin heard him get out of bed and, as he rolled to question where the boy was going, Michael smiled at him by the door, rubbing at tired eyes. “I’ll be back in a few secs. Don’t worry,” he assured.

As the footsteps padded away, Gavin’s curiosity increased. Normally he would be able to hear where Michael had gone judging by the location of his steps but as it was night, the boy was being extra quiet. After a couple of minutes, when Gavin had just started to fret that Michael had left him - even though he knew that was completely ridiculous - the sound of footsteps appeared again. Two sets this time.

Hall-light shone into the room as the door opened again and Michael entered, Trevor a few steps behind. The young carer’s hair was poking out in all directions and he was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Clearly, Michael had caught him in the middle of his own bedtime routine. Nevertheless, Trevor spoke friendly and upbeat as ever. “Hey Gav, Michael said there’s some books he wants me to read. That okay?”

Gavin only stared, mouth agape, as Michael bounded to the pile of books and picked the one Jeremy had recommended. The one with a dog on the front. “This one Trevor! This one looks the best!” he grinned, dancing around on bare feet.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Trevor hushed. “It’s quiet time, remember?”

“Okay,” Michael whispered, putting his finger to his lips. “We’ll be very, very quiet.”And then instead of getting back into his own bed, he dashed towards Gavin’s, jumping in under the covers before either Gavin or Trevor could get in a word. “What?” he said innocently, as he poked his unruly curly head out. “This is for a better audio experience.”

Trevor rolled his eyes but allowed Michael to stay. The other boy felt incredibly warm next to Gavin and he smelled like the strawberry shower gel he’d used earlier. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, but usually, it was because they were cold and playing a video game together. As they lay together at that moment Gavin wondered if, in Michael’s past life, that maybe once upon a time, he’d done the same with his brothers, before they’d all been taken away and separated.

Trevor pulled over a chair and sat down next to them. He read - he read a _book_ to them. Harry The Dirty Dog was no ground breaking literature and was quite short, probably aimed at children a few years younger than them aka Jeremy, but it was charming all the same and Trevor was excellent at putting on the voices.

After that, Trevor read one called Green Eggs and Ham which Michael, to Gavin’s surprise, seemed to greatly enjoy. The older boy even demanded that Trevor read another Dr. Seuss book after - their _last_ one, Trevor informed them.

Turned out Trevor was correct in his estimations of their energy levels. Before the book was finished, Gavin’s eyes were shut and he was barely paying attention to the words, not stirring when Trevor stopped altogether and stood up. He was vaguely aware of Trevor ushering an almost passed out Michael back to his own bed, but darkness quickly consumed him, locking out any info of the waking world.

And what a darkness. For it was simply that. For once in so many weeks, it was simply dark. Simple, peaceful nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo... another chapter down! Have to give credit to Outnumbered for inspiring one particular little scene. Hilarious fucking show.


	8. Chapter 8

_“You never act out. You positively explode.” - Burnie_

 

“What about going to the movies?”

“No.”

“What about paintball?”

“No.

“What about a pool party?”

“Do I look six years old?”

Burnie shrugged and pulled a pleading face at Ryan. Alright, alright, no, he did not look six years old.

In fact, Ryan would be turning sixteen in four days. Burnie would say that time had flown by but honestly at times he felt as if he’d known the boy his whole life. It wasn’t unusual to feel that way for a lot of the kids. He put so much of his own time and energy into giving them the best care possible, they had taken over almost every aspect of his existence. Ryan may have only been with them for little under two years but in that short time Burnie had seen him grow and change into the young man he was today.

Even so, the first day, as they always were, was still a perfectly clear memory in his mind. There had been nothing remarkable about Ryan at first glance. Nothing to say he was different from any other child. And unlike most of the others, he had been lean rather than thin when he’d arrived. Rooster Teeth had been his first placement - minus the emergency one he had been placed in for three weeks while social services scrambled to find a long term placement for yet another teenager.

Sullen, as most newcomers were, but Burnie had seen intelligence in his sky blue eyes. Angry too, but that was more than expected and understandable. The boy’s older brother and only living relative had recently died after all.

Once the social worker had introduced him and left the two alone, Burnie asked him the same question he always asked new children.

“ _What would you like to happen now?_ ”

Usually, the kids would say something harsh in response, something to tell Burnie that they didn’t want to be there and resented being sent.

Ryan had thought about the question.

He skipped the usual instant responses - “ _I want to go home,_ ” some would plea, or “ _Whatever, I don’t have a choice,_ ” from the more hardened veterans of the system. And a few times, Burnie had simply been told to “ _Go fuck yourself._ ”

Ryan had answered slowly, and he answered the question he knew was intended to test their limits, not settling for the easy, defiant answer. “ _My old life ended. So I suppose I need to start a new one here._ ”

Burnie was both delighted and saddened by the answer, though he didn’t let it show. It was great that Ryan seemed so settled with the idea of coming into care, but the wise, incredibly _jaded_ response was not necessarily what he wanted to hear from a fourteen-year-old who’d lost so much. Ryan’s apparent chilled out attitude was a breath of fresh air, but it was tinged with something putrid.

Nevertheless, he had taken Ryan by the shoulder and lead him into the main living room to meet some of the other kids Gus had already assembled there to allow more introductions to be made.

No sparks had lit the air when Geoff and Ryan met. The older boy was easy going and full of mischief, while Ryan was solemn and thoughtful, and they gave each other a searching look that the kids always gave when meeting a newcomer of a similar age, and Geoff stuck out his hand.

Ryan had regarded the open palm with a slight air of suspicion, like he could already see the inner workings of Geoff’s mind and the ways the older boy would continuously find new and inventive ways to annoy him.

At the time though, he had nothing to back up these theories, and the two politely shook for the first - and last - time.

Burnie knew, with all the chaos that came with looking after the kids, and all the trouble they could both intentionally and unintentionally cause, that he sometimes took Ryan’s laidback attitude for granted. Because Ryan, prone to moments of anger as he was, had always given the carers the impression that he could raise himself - that he was grateful for the roof over his head and the clothes, food and other basic amenities he was provided with, but ultimately if he had no other choice, he could do it all on his own.

Maybe, if he’d been less experienced in his line of work, Burnie might’ve mistaken that matureness as a sign he could always leave Ryan to his own devices. But, despite sometimes being a little too thankful Ryan was off minding his own business and not causing any trouble, he kept tabs on the kid as much as any of the others.

There were three main worries that always came to mind with Ryan. One: sleep - the boy didn’t get nearly enough thanks to his insomnia, which was an ongoing battle triggered by the most traumatic moment of the boy’s life. Two: his angry outbursts - while less frequent and considerably less violent than they used to be, he still seemed to be triggered by the most minor of things, petty arguments and nuisances. And three: sometimes Burnie just felt the kid was _too_ much of a loner - that he understood everybody had different levels of tolerance for other human beings but, with Ryan, he could happily hole himself up in his own room for days on end if food and drink were supplied directly to him… which they weren’t. Food and drink were often Burnie’s only leverage to get Ryan to come out and join the living world if he was in one of his really antisocial moods.

So, yes, in comparison to some of the other kids, these worries could be deemed minor in comparison. Burnie, however, had learned no kid was the same. That if Ryan went without enough sleep for too long he was prone to be disruptive in class. That his angry outbursts, while seemingly pointless and occurring for no reason to some people, most likely came for a real place or hurt or frustration. And his antisocial tendencies… Ryan could get scared. Getting close to people could hurt, Ryan knew that very well. Having people you thought you could always rely on to be there for you was dangerous when one bar fight gone wrong could wrench them painfully out of your life.

So he kept an eye on Ryan, like he did with all his kids, although sometimes he felt as if he needed to be some all-seeing, all-knowing God to be able to keep tracks on all of them at all times. He supposed that’s why he hired the most competent staff he could find. And Gus.

“C’mon, you must have some ideas,” he pestered Ryan, hoping to at least get some inkling about what Ryan would like to do.

Ryan threw back his head, groaning too. He was really getting fed up with Burnie’s questions.

“Not really. I’ll just go round Jake’s like normal and we’ll chill. I don’t want to do anything special.”

“Well, it is up to you but let me know if you change your mind,” Burnie insisted, not so quick to give up. “And we’re gonna have to do something at the house even if it’s for the benefit of the youngsters.”

Ryan bit his lip, fighting back a grimace. “Only if you don’t turn out all the lights and sing Happy Birthday to me.”

“Sorry Ryan, I’m afraid no promises can be made on that front,” Burnie said. It was part of his duty as head carer that he makes sure all birthdays were celebrated properly, including the embarrassing family sing-a-long part that most teenagers detested.

Turning a corner into an even more crowded street, Burnie felt his heart leap as he realized he hadn’t done his routine check recently. He spun around quickly, eyes darting around the area, trying to locate one face in particular. “Lawrence? Where’ve you gone?” he called out, perhaps slightly more panicked than he would have liked - _I’m a constant presence of calm and composure, I’m a constant presence of calm and composure, I’m a -_

The boy abruptly walked into him a few seconds after his shouts, glaring up at Burnie’s suddenly stopped figure. “I’m _here,_ idiot.”

Relief washed over Burnie as he smiled ruefully down at the boy and the utterly unimpressed expression he was giving him. He’d gotten so used to Lawrence dawdling behind or wandering off into random crowds or stores, that he had failed to notice that the boy was literally right behind him. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you down there.”

Lawrence craned his neck back to glare up at him, putting up his hood again as it fell off his head. “Calling me short?” he challenged.

Burnie regarded him. Judging the pale green eyes to see if it was anger or mischief that filled them more. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he said when he decided that Lawrence was in the latter mood. He could tell his blatant answer surprised the boy, but a few seconds later Lawrence was actually smirking wryly up at him, hopping forward so he was stood at Burnie’s side. The kid appreciated people being straight with him, that was another thing Burnie was learning. He always wanted whatever was in your mind, be it good or bad; he wanted to know what you were really thinking and threw a fit if he thought someone was being coy with him.

“Easier to take people down - can go for the legs. I done it loads before,” Lawrence grinned, and Burnie laughed a little, regaining his composure.

“I’ve no doubt you have,” he agreed. Burnie often thought the boy would benefit from hanging out with James and Adam more. Not only were they of similar age but it would do everyone a favor if Lawrence could burn off some of his pent-up rage in, let’s say, a little backyard wrestling, rather than on, what was more common, household items or household residents.

Burnie was hugely grateful though, that Lawrence was in one of his rare chirpier moods that day, in that he wasn’t being a complete menace. They had a rota for the kids to help with the shopping every other weekend. To be honest, it wasn’t so much their help that was needed, although Burnie did appreciate it, but more of a chance to spend time with them more as individuals or pairs in a very normal, everyday setting. Michael especially loved coming with Burnie on his own. It was the only time the kid would call him ‘Dad’, just so other people would think they were related. Burnie didn’t discourage it, if Michael wanted to call him Dad for a few hours, he was hardly one to say no.

And that day, the most complaint Burnie had when asking Lawrence to go into town with him and Ryan was a long exaggerated sigh and an eye roll. In the car, he had even been quite talkative and, contrary to most kids his age, had been the one asking Burnie questions about himself. _“What was your first job?”, “What’s your family like?”, “What’s the worst Christmas gift you ever got?”_. Burnie didn’t know if the boy was actually interested in the answers - he doubted it - or if he was just doing it to keep any talk about his own life and feelings away - much more likely.

Still, Burnie welcomed the conversation all the same. When he wasn’t shouting or fighting or in one of his foul, sulking moods when he wanted nothing to do with anyone, the kid actually provided enjoyable company. He was intelligent with a dark sense of humor, and he apparently had a strong view of anything and everyone. With those characteristics, it was easy to think he and Ryan might have gotten along well. But maybe they were too similar on that front, repelling against each other like identical magnets, with Lawrence always being overly competitive to get one up on the older boy.

Anyway, Lawrence had remained in a good mood after Burnie let him choose where they got food. They’d been to a homewares store, and he’d been more than happy to play lapdog, running off to go and fetch items Burnie listed off. For a while, he was like any normal, happy kid out in the town, if a little extra wild, and it had given Burnie a greater sense of hope that they were making groundwork with the boy. Perhaps he had wished for that desired breakthrough too soon.

“Why do I have to go with _him_?”

“You don’t have to but I’m going to be waiting in line for at least half an hour at this time, so if you’d rather do that…”

Lawrence’s eyes widened in horror at the idea of standing still for so long. “Hell no.”

Burnie smirked. “Thought as much.”

“No one likes a know-it-all,” the boy sang, imitating a voice Burnie knew had been aimed at Lawrence a _lot._

Burnie grinned wider still, shaking his head while Lawrence pulled faces. He glanced over at Ryan, who had stayed quiet during the mini argument, head turned away, daydreaming. A passive attitude was what Ryan usually adopted if any argument not involving him broke out, so persistent about not giving a damn it could sometimes rile up the others more. It wasn’t easy though, Burnie knew. He knew in nearly all of those instances, Ryan was using every bit of self-control to hold his tongue, if only in fear of what might happen should he get involved.

He walked over to the teen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s in a good mood. You’ll be fine, but give me a call if you need me,” he assured.

Ryan gave a short nod, in his military disciplined mode, a tactic he engaged when he really didn’t want to do something. But this would be a good thing, Burnie was convinced. If they were going to live together all the kids had to learn to get along at some point. And being the second eldest, he knew and trusted Ryan’s abilities to handle one unruly child for an hour or so.

Burnie also knew that sometimes, he could get things disastrously wrong.

 

––––

 

Their task was simple, and it needed no overcomplicating.

Walk to the store, get the food, pick up Ryan’s laptop that had gone in for repairs, meet up with Burnie. Easy, nothing hard about that.

Or at least it would be if Ryan had been on his own, with his own capable self.

“This is boring,” Lawrence moaned for the umpteenth time, as they walked along through the crowds. It was walking, it wasn’t meant to be overly interesting or stimulating, and Ryan knew _Lawrence knew_ that, and he was simply repeating the same phrase over and over to get on Ryan’s nerves. Whatever. Ryan could deal with that. Hell, he’d had to sit next to Jeremy on a forty minute drives while the little boy just sang “bored, bored, bored, bored,” the whole drive.

Anyhow, he wanted to get the shit done as fast as possible. 

“Watch where you're walking, you’re gonna end up in the middle of the road if you’re not careful.”

“So? It’ll be quicker,” Lawrence said, pointing to the congested traffic, all the cars having come to a stand-still.

Ryan sighed and quickened his pace, dodging around the slowly moving shoppers.

“Hey!” The small boy bounded after him, having to switch between walking and jogging to keep up with Ryan’s long-legged strides. Dark hair poked out from underneath the hood he’d kept up, even though it was relatively warm and not raining, the dark grey hooded jacket the perfect color to match the effect he was having on Ryan’s mood.

As something to do, Ryan checked the money Burnie had given him, counting out the cash under his breath. He could see in the corner of his eye, Lawrence watching him with interest. “You using all that on food?” he asked after a beat, eagerly eyeing the money.

Ryan paused, not forgetting his money that had gone missing a month or so ago, and he tightened his fingers around the cash. “Yep.”

“Cause y’know, you could like–”

“No, I couldn’t,” Ryan interrupted, predicting where Lawrence was going. “They have strict rules on what is purchased with the budget money and check all the receipts. And anyway,” he sent down a chiding glare. “I would never do that.”

He found himself met with a fierce look. “Cause you’re a pussy?”

_Jesus Christ._ Ryan swallowed hard. “No, because I don’t want to.”

“I would.”

Ryan carried on meeting hard gaze with equal firmness. “Good thing I have the money and not you then, isn’t it?”

Lawrence considered this and slowly nodded. “I could take it from you if I wanted to. Aim for the legs,” he retorted, making a few fake darts towards Ryan. He threw up his arms when his antics were met with yet another hard glare. “Lighten up Ryan, I’m only _kidding_.”

He wasn’t, but Ryan didn’t mention anything that could prolong the conversation. They walked on in silence. Ryan shivered as a cold blast of wind suddenly hit them, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets for shelter. Inevitably, Lawrence soon grew further bored and, to Ryan’s horror and embarrassment, invented a game called ‘Let’s see how many people I can walk into’ as they were entering the ginormous food store.

He tried grabbing him but Lawrence only darted away. He tried glaring at him but it had absolutely no effect, the younger boy only grinning in return. Then he tried ignoring him until he heard someone curse very loudly and turned to see a large gentleman struggling to pick up his fallen shopping and a very shifty young boy hurrying away.

“Lawrence, c’mon,” Ryan said, defeated, and it was his sound of defeat that eventually had Lawrence returning to his side, smug in his victory.

_Stay calm,_ Ryan fought to remind himself. _No need to get mad at this little shit._

They headed for the small electronics repair station, located near the back of the store first, Ryan eager to see his faithful old laptop again.

“Did you know that sausages are older than the Bible?” Lawrence asked at one point.

Ryan frowned so Lawrence explained. “Sausages. They came before the Bible. So Jesus and his buddies probably chilled out with barbeque, shooting the shit.”

Ryan’s frown only deepened. “Oh.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

Ryan growled under his breath as the younger boy suddenly danced across in front of him, almost tripping him up. “Did you know that most bananas are clones?” Lawrence asked as he passed.

“No.”

“It’s true.” Lawrence nodded sagely. “Did you know Hawaiian pizza was invented in Canada?”

“Okay, whatever. I don’t care.”

The boy looked up at Ryan in satisfaction. “You’re just mad that I’m smarter than you.”

“No. I’m not. I just really don’t care.”

“So you admit I’m smarter than you?”

Ryan let out a huff of frustration. “I’m just not gonna listen to you anymore.”

“Aww,” Lawrence grinned, putting on a fake tone of disappointment, and it was such a different attitude to how he normally was that Ryan actually felt a tinge of guilt. It was easy to hate Lawrence when he was acting like a little brat - aka the whole time Ryan had known him - not so much when he was bouncing alongside Ryan like an oversized puppy. If it had been one of the other youngsters asking him questions like that he would have taken it in his stride. Heck, Gavin was famed for his random ass queries and Ryan took them as they came with fondness and humor.

So Ryan decided to brush aside his built up annoyance at the kid and throw the dog a bone. Now that he thought about it, there was one thing about the young boy that _had_ been intriguing him for a while. “Seeing as you’re in such a talkative mood, I’ve gotta question for you.”

Lawrence looked up at him again, green eyes narrowing, silent as he waited for Ryan to expand.

“Your accent. You’re from the south?”

The surprise was evident on Lawrence’s face, a rare moment of open emotion. “You can tell?” he asked, a tone Ryan hadn’t heard before in his voice. Cautious or worried maybe, but also excitement?

“I can hear you’ve lost most of it, but I’m a Georgia boy, got a finer ear for those dialects than most others up here.”

“I’m from Texas,” Lawrence replied, chin high, the statement sounding proud. The moment didn’t last long as he quickly lowered his head, slowing his walk down as he mumbled: “But I ain’t lived there for a while. My first foster dicks only spoke Spanish too, so that was a mindfuck. Kinda mixed me all up, I think.”

Ryan slowed down too, regarding the hood that covered the bent head. “You ever think about going back there one day?”

A sharp intake of breath, as if Lawrence were going to reply with one thing but changed his mind last second. “I dunno. Probably not. There’s nothin’ there for me,” he said instead. He looked up at Ryan again, expression once more unreadable. “Why? You wantin’ to go back to pretty old Georgia?”

“I’ve thought about it… but it’s for the best that I don’t,” Ryan mumbled, voice tight. It was always there, whenever the topic was brought up, and he supposed he only had himself to blame, mentioning it this time.

“Why?” Lawrence regarded him curiously.

Ryan didn’t reply. Couldn’t. It wasn’t that there was nothing in Georgia for him. But none of it was good, none of it was happy.

_Jason…_

He tried to avoid thinking about it altogether but Lawrence had unintentionally flipped it onto him from Ryan’s own question. The tensions that always crept into his muscles and nerves were a clear sign that he was far from over it, that the wound had barely begun to heal. He just buried it under layers and layers of carefully constructed walls and new memories with his new ‘family’, like an artist starting a new sketch, creating something new and beautiful, but only ever covering that initial hurt.

_“Jason? You here?”_

If Ryan ever went back home again… he didn’t know what he would do. He liked to think he would stay in control but he’d thought that before, although back then all the hurt and anger had been so much _rawer._ But Ryan knew, at least for now, he couldn’t trust himself.

_“Hey Ty, you seen my brother?”_

Really, who could? You come face to face with your brothers killer, it’s bound to make you see red. It had happened once it would probably happen again, and now with the guy out on bail after only two years… Ryan’s fist clenched. Accident or no, that drunken fight had taken away his only living family member. Was two years justice enough in his mind? _Fuck no._

_“No! You have to let me in! I’m family!”_

A light poke on his arm brought him rushing back to the present, and he turned to see Lawrence continuing to gaze up at him, little face still unreadable. “S’alright. You don’t need to tell me nothin’,” he said, glancing up at him, corner of his mouth tilting up. “All got our secrets, don’t we?”

“It’s not like that,” Ryan began, but Lawrence’s words had him halt.

_Yeah, we do all have our secrets,_ and as much as Geoff got on his nerves, Ryan always found himself reluctantly admitting that the guy had a certain skill for being the voice of reason. What Geoff had said, back near the start of term; he didn’t know anything about this kid and the shit he’d probably been through. Just like Lawrence didn’t know about the shit Ryan had been through. 

_Huh, been living with him for nearly three months and still know next to nothing._

Honestly, all he did know was from what he could see right there in front of him. The things Lawrence couldn’t keep hidden away under layers and layers of his own carefully contracted walls.

And all he saw was a small kid. Just that. A small, slightly rough around the edges, kid.

Ryan knew if Jason had still been around he would have told Ryan to be the bigger man and let bygones be bygones. Or at least take the Geoff approach and not allow anything Lawrence had said or done to affect him personally. To brush it off with a good-natured hand –

_“Tell me who did it.”_

But he wasn’t his brother and it had never come as naturally to him. And he definitely didn’t want the kid around at the moment, not when Ryan was suddenly feeling so very vulnerable with his emotions. Right now he needed some space, and he searched for the quickest exit he could find - desperately leaping at it when he figured he could kill two birds with one stone.

_“I’m going to fucking kill you!”_

His body shook hard, like he was physically trying to brush the memories away.

“Lawrence, take this list and get me the items on there, okay?” he fumbled in his pocket for the list Burnie had given him. At the boy’s insolent expression, he even resorted to placing his palms together and leaning over so they were somewhat eye level. “Pretty please?” he begged, batting his eyelids for good measure.

Lawrence grunted out a laugh, giving Ryan a weird look, but he slowly took the paper from him.

Ryan saw the green eyes narrow as they scanned the list for an abnormally long time. He wasn’t sure if the boy had just zoned out or was intentionally wasting time, and he tapped his foot impatiently. “Normal food, huh?” Lawrence asked eventually, peering up at Ryan speculatively.

“Yeah…” Ryan drawled out, suspicious. “What else did you think it’d be?” Too late for a reply, Lawrence was already walking off. Ryan stared after him, torn between leaving him like planned or running after him to make sure nothing went wrong. About to call after him, he thought better of it. Ryan needed his space right now, privacy to wallow in his own thoughts and memories - a solo companionship he welcomed.

It worked - as he knew it would - going about his business, waiting quietly in line to be reunited with his laptop. He was often unsure if thinking about Jason and what had happened to him was healthy. In one sense it wasn’t good to dwell on the dark facts, but surely avoiding the topic altogether was just as bad. Ryan tried to allow his mind to wander there in moderation, and not in large public places.

Afterwards, realizing he hadn’t set up any meetup point, and failing to find the younger boy by just walking aimlessly around, Ryan decided to just wait by the checkouts, relaxing as Lawrence finally appeared, returning with a full cart that was almost as tall as he was.

Ryan smiled, pleased that everything seemed in order - that they could pay and meet back up with Burnie and then head home, where Ryan could go straight to his room and check himself out of reality for a while –

“What’s all this? What –”

“Food.” Lawrence cut in. He was staring at the very point just above Ryan’s eyes, as if he thought the older boy couldn’t tell the difference. His voice was quiet, deceptively calm.

“But more than half of this isn’t what was wrote down,” Ryan snapped, observing the array of food that he knew wasn’t normally on the list.

“I lost it.”

“What?”

“I lost it,” Lawrence repeated, softly.

Ryan glared. “You lost the food?”

“No, you dumbass. The list.” Lawrence sighed, leaning forward on the cart, bored again.

Ryan scowled, one hundred percent not convinced. He loomed over the smaller boy, who looked up at him with dull, inexpressive eyes, not at all intimidated or regretful. No apologies here. “Great. Well, that’s a whole lot of time wasted. Burnie’s gonna be happy when he returns and we’ve done nothing! You think he’s gonna fall for this dumb act?”

The briefest flash of _something_ glinted in the green eyes. “You got your laptop didn’t you? I got food. We’re good,” Lawrence said, a slight more forceful this time.

“No. I did what I needed to do. You’ve just messed me around - as usual,” Ryan couldn’t help adding.

Lawrence laughed then - a harsh, cruel sound. It was far from the laughter Ryan had heard earlier. Then he’d seemed more normal - as cheeky and excitable as any kid his age. But when he stood, hood still up, glaring up at Ryan dangerously - he couldn’t reconcile the two.

Ryan flipped.

“Why are you like this? Do you want me to not like you - is that it?” he demanded to know. “Because you’re succeeding, so congratulations –”

Lawrence tipped the cart over.

It created a thunderous, jarring crash, the produce spilling everywhere, sliding around Ryan’s feet. The older boy jolted backward - for a moment he couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and could only stare at Lawrence with wide eyes, breathing so fast he almost felt dizzy. The look on Lawrence’s face disturbed him more than the action did - his green eyes had darkened so much they nearly looked black, his lips pulled taught into a furious sneer.

“Whatever!” The boy shouted at him, enraged voice echoing around the whole store. By now quite a crowd had gathered from the commotion, onlookers warily watching the scene unfold. “¡Me vale madre!” Lawrence yelled again, meeting Ryan dead in the eye - no averted gazes now.

And Ryan didn’t need to be fluent in Spanish to get the gist of that particular phrase. He tightened his fists hard, pointing a demanding finger at the mess. “Get here. We’re cleaning this up.” The tremors in his body were growing more violent by the second as he felt the control slipping away.

Lawrence stayed where he was, glaring defiantly. Then instead of coming closer, he took a step backward, kicking one of the fallen apples at Ryan, and then another, laughing as he did so.

“Lawrence! Stop it!”

There was no point trying to rectify anything at this point, deep down Ryan knew that. They were both too angry. There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him to back off, that nothing could be done. _Be smart, leave it be. Whatever’s going on is out of your control now._ _You can’t fix this on your own._

_“I’m going to fucking kill you!”_

_“I’m going to fucking kill you!”_

_“I’m going to fucking kill you!”_

_Stay… in… control._

Lawrence kicked another apple at him.

“Get here you little fuck!” Ryan launched like a wild predator, making a grab for the boy with both arms, fully uncaring about what happened to either of them, but Lawrence nimbly dodged, backing himself into a corner. He bared his teeth, sadistically, as Ryan once again lunged at him. Another dodge, a duck, and then a swift and ferocious kick to Ryan’s shin, and he was away, disappearing around an aisle before Ryan even had a chance to catch a breath.

The crowd of onlookers was even larger now and some were saying stuff to him… maybe, he wasn’t really listening. Unwelcome tears of embarrassment and anger pooled in the corner of Ryan’s eyes as he clutched at his throbbing leg. “You - you little shit!” he raged, uncaring of all the prying stares.

It was like his own eyes had blinders on them, narrowing his eyesight to the mess around him, all sounds muffled except for his own pounding heartbeat and heavy breathing. His cheeks and his lungs burned.

Slowly. Breathe slowly.

_I need to breathe, I need to breathe, I need to breathe._

He counted to ten in his head, breathing in and out as he did so. He repeated it.

Slowly, slowly the real world blended back into his frame of vision, not that it was any better. Ryan sighed as he heard the crackle of a radio and the man holding it.

Great. Security.

 

–––––

 

When Burnie first got the text from Ryan telling him he had to ask for the manager to take him to Ryan, it had put his head in a spin and left him panicked. A whole host of scenarios had rushed through his head, each one worse as the seconds ticked by between him receiving the message on his way to the store and him bursting through the staff doors to find a very sullen looking teen sat in the middle of an otherwise empty row of chairs, outside a door labelled ‘Security’.

“Ryan! You alright? What’s going on? Where’s Lawrence?” Burnie rushed out before Ryan even had time to look up.

When he saw who it was his shoulders slumped, head hanging.

Burnie was quick to take a seat next to him, subconsciously checking for any injuries of clues as to what had gone on. “Well? Ryan?” he insisted.

“I um… lost him,” Ryan said, voice low and flat, folding his arms, and Burnie’s spine went rigid.

_Not again._

“You’re joking,” he said hopefully, even though he knew it was futile, confirmed by the helpless look Ryan gave him. “You’re not joking,” Burnie mumbled, running hands through frazzled hair, feeling like he was aging quicker all of a sudden. “How did you lose him?”

Ryan swallowed. He was wary, like he was being tested here, in some way, nervous under Burnie’s close eye. He seemed to struggle with what to say. “Well I kinda got mad and we got into a bit of a fight… _but_ he’d gone and got all the wrong food on purpose and then he tipped the cart over and there was a mess and –”

“And let me guess, you saw red and he ran off,” Burnie finished off for him, already picturing the scene in his head. When Ryan said “kinda mad” he knew that was only half of it.

Ryan squirmed. “Yeah, not before he gave me a good kick in the shin though,” he managed finally. “Left me to deal with the mess too. I tried explaining it to them but I think they best talk to you. Think they’ll be back in a minute.”

Burnie nodded, formulating his next plan of action. “Alright, I’ll do that and, well, we’ll have a look and ask around and then better call the police, I suppose.” He laughed light, because that’s all he could do. “They’re gonna love us by the end of this year.”

“I - I’m really sorry Burnie,” Ryan stammered, bracing himself like he expected Burnie to be angry at him, like he thought he’d let the man down. It was moments like this that made Burnie curse the past events that still affected his kids more than ever. That he could love and care for them as much as possible, and they would return the favor, but they could also still instinctively react in such defensive manners, old wounds easily opening.

“No I – it’s fine Ryan,” Burnie said automatically. Ryan shook his head as if taking on the disappointment in himself he thought Burnie should have.

“Hey, really Ryan,” Burnie squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about today. It’s my fault if anyone’s, I shouldn’t have left you two alone. It was my mistake for stupidly thinking he might actually be behaving today.”

Ryan took in a shaky breath.

“It was me. He was fine with you but with me he didn’t want to listen. He did it just to annoy me because he knew it would, and I fell for it. I should’ve… should’ve just dealt with it until you got back.” He was clearly very frustrated with himself.

“Two things,” Burnie began. “I’m the one trained to deal with kids acting out and two, neither of us really know yet why that kid does what he does. But if I were to guess, I don’t think it was personal Ryan. I think that sometimes it just might be in his nature to act out.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Like I do?”

“You never act out. You positively explode.”

Ryan smiled at his light teasing. “I’m getting better though, aren’t I? I mean… I was,” he trailed off.

“Absolutely,” Burnie assured. “I haven’t noticed that fireball anger in… well, not for a long time. I know you can go into rage mode but it’s often filled with humor these days. Or…” he lowered his voice, “is that just you hiding your true feelings?”

Ryan shook his head adamantly. “No. They’re not out as control as they used to be. Of course, I’m usually still angry for them to occur in the first place, but I’m quicker to find the lighter side of things.” He pulled a self-deprecating face. “It helps that the others just laugh anyway if I start shouting, helps me realize quicker if I’m getting upset over things that no one needs to be angry about.”

Burnie nodded. “But today - today you were so angry because?” he asked tentatively.

“Because he just has that effect, he… he was wasting time, _your_ time. And he didn’t care, he seemed pleased with himself, like I said, he just wanted to make me angry. Guess he succeeded.” Ryan muttered sourly as he ran a hand across his own face, mirroring Burnie’s action from earlier, looking so old and so young at the same time.

“Thank you, Ryan,” Burnie said quietly, breaking the silence. “Thank you for caring about my time being wasted. Though nothing’s ever a waste with you lot, you know that,” he added. “Try not to dwell on today. What’s done is done and besides, I’m proud of you for lasting that long with him. I’m pretty certain Adam or Michael would have tackled him into the cereal stand way earlier.”

A pause. Ryan snorted gently. “Would’ve probably been more effective.” That joke, as small as it might have been, relieved Burnie to no end. If there was one thing he didn’t want to get from today it was Ryan blaming himself for no good reason. The fact that he appeared to be lightening up was good news. “If you’re so proud of me…” Ryan continued after a moment, eyes glinting with mischief when Burnie met them. “Does that mean I can get out of doing something at the house for my birthday?”

Burnie shook his head with vigor, matching Ryan’s small smile. “Hell no.”

If there was one thing you needed to work at Rooster Teeth, it was a bit of that quality “embarrassing dad” factor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me vale madre = It means mother to me (literal translation) = I don't give a fuck
> 
> This chapter took a little longer than planned mainly because it was the first one I hadn't fully planned out and was just going with the flow. I think it turned out alright though!


	9. Chapter 9

_"It’s accurate and besides, Geoff’s called me far worse.” - Gavin_

 

In his dreams Gavin sees the countryside roll by his window out in the bushy outskirts of the current town they were staying in, one they’d moved to in the dead of night only a few days ago, his parents driving all through the night to get them there. His parents often liked to do that and Gavin never quite understood why, why they’d up and leave just like that with no warning and no apparent reason. It wasn’t like they ever moved anywhere remotely interesting either - not that it made any difference to Gavin, he wasn’t allowed to have opinions. 

The car turned off the beaten road onto an even more run down track, one that looked like it hadn’t been used for years. At the end of the track, there was a building, half covered with overhanging branches and overgrown shrubs, fallen into disrepair, and it was here that his parents stopped.

He waited until his mother opened up his door, a small woman, blonde hair falling messily around her shoulders. She took him by the hand and lead him out of the car towards the building, where his dad was already leaning against the porch pillar waiting for them.

“ _Hey. Are you feeling ready_?” he asked as they approached, and Gavin nodded his head. He _never_ was ready. But it made no difference.

“ _Yes, Father_ ,” he replied. “ _What am I going to do?_ ”

“ _Well_ ,” his father looked around in anticipation, pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing his arms from the brisk chill in the air. “ _We are going to be starting a new series of experiments focusing on isolation. Do you know what isolation means?_ ” he added, looking at Gavin expectantly.

The six-year-old bit his lip. “ _Umm, it means being on your own,_ ” he replied, grimly staring forward.

“ _Such a clever boy_ ,” his mother murmured, glancing across to his father with a wicked grin. “ _We thought we’d try placing you in isolation in various locations. We don’t want you to do anything, you’ve got food and water with you, but they’ll be no outside distractions and no leaving these premises. And we’ll be watching you the whole time, making observations._ ”

“ _Okay_ ,” Gavin replied with a sort of nervous smile. “ _No leaving the premises,_ ” he repeated, because he knew they wanted him to.

At the time he’d almost been relieved. Out of all the horrific things they’d made him do and put him under, being left alone didn’t sound that bad at all, maybe even a bit of a welcomed break.

It was eerie out there though, no denying that - far too quiet, with a damp, sort of haunted feel to the entire place. Gavin’s footsteps creaked on the wooden steps leading up to the front and only door, and he tried not to think of what might be in the derelict shack.

The moment the door opened Gavin knew he didn’t want to go in there, let alone stay in there for as long as his parents deemed appropriate. It was dark, filled with a dank gloom broken only by the faint beams of sunlight filtering through the wooden boards of the walls, dust motes suspended within.

His parents ushered him in, dropping bags that clanged with the sound of tinned food. From what little light there was Gavin could just about make out a wooden table and chairs a couch and a small cupboard. There was a door leading to another room which Gavin assumed - and hoped - was the bathroom.

“ _There you are_ ,” his father said, standing in the lightened doorway, casting an even more imposing figure than his wiry frame should allow. “ _We’ll leave you to get settled in._ ”

As his parents moved out of the door Gavin wanted to scream and shout. Never before had the urge been stronger to beg for them not to go. He didn’t want to stay in this creepy old building where there was no light and even less furniture. And suddenly he was darting forward, clutching hold of his mother’s hand. “ _No! Please don’t go!_ ”

His mother looked surprised, and then uncertain, turning to his father for help.

His father was having none of it. There was anger in the green eyes, frustration, and outrage - but Gavin couldn’t help but send pleading gazes up at him all the same. Maybe just maybe, they’d let him off for once. He was always so well behaved, maybe just this one time –

“ _Get in your house._ ” His father ripped his hand off his mother’s and pushed him back, slamming the door shut.

Gavin stood there, wide-eyed and helpless. " _No..._ " A moment later there was a scratching on the door and loud thuds, as the man finished up the job and barricaded him in. Then his footsteps echoed away and Gavin heard the car startup. Then he heard the car drive off.

Then he was alone.

He still hadn’t moved from the spot his father had pushed him too. It was pitch black now that the door was shut, he couldn’t even see his own hand if he held it up to his face.

Gavin whimpered, crouching down into a tight ball, hugging his arms around his knees. He didn’t want to be alone. Even being with his parents was better than this. He didn’t move at all that first night, only hugging himself tighter when he heard scary sounds coming from the wilderness around him, and he cried himself to sleep.

Waking up felt like bursting free from a prison cell; the dark, calm space that was his room seemed so inviting, relieving after that darker, damp and terrifying shack he had been kept locked in for three days. Gavin pushed himself up in bed so he was sitting on his pillow, leaning against the backboard, brushing sweaty strands of hair from his forehead.

Grabbing his small torch and one of Jeremy’s books provided a welcome distraction. He thought back to that terrifying night - how it was the first time he’d really seen his father that angry, the first time Gavin had ever attempted to disobey their wishes, how his mother had hesitated, just for a split second when he grabbed her arm.

Over the last year or so, Gavin had spent a lot of time scrutinizing in his mind just what might have made his parents' such horrible people. It made life easier when he could theorize reasons behind their insanity and cruelty, that they hadn’t been doing it simply for the fun of it.

He ran his hands comfortingly over the shiny, bright pictures of the book. There was no terror in those pages, only joy, meant for a child with no worries, to be read by a parent with nothing but love in their heart for their son or daughter. Gavin had to admit, the books had helped a lot, more than he ever expected - weird as that sounded. Guess if sometimes took the idea of a five-year-old to make progress.

When a cry rang out a few minutes later he jumped, looking across the see Michael thrashing about in bed. The other boy was whimpering as Gavin slipped out of his covers and padded over, reaching out a tentative arm.

“Michael? It’s alright, Michael.”

Michael’s eyelids flickered, his forehead coated in sweat, just like Gavin’s had been earlier. “No… go away. I don’t wanna… No…” he trailed off, twitching some more, then all of a sudden bolted upright. “No!” The word started off as a shout but quickly dissolved into a murmur as Michael became aware of his surroundings.

He turned his head to Gavin, breathing heavily.

“Michael? It’s alright, you’re safe.” Gavin almost felt uncomfortable about his own words, remembering how’d they’d been used on him a hundred times before, and that just because someone tells you your safe, doesn’t mean your body knows it.

Michael stared ahead, expression openly distressed. “I know,” he said after a while, looking back to Gavin. “I know. Just a bad dream, okay?”

“Didn’t think you got bad dreams anymore,” Gavin mused. “Not ones like that, anyway.” _Not ones with memories,_ he thought, but didn’t quite say it aloud. “Michael, it’s alright if you wanna talk about it. Or not. I don’t mind. You’ve always been there for me though, Michael…” he trailed off, but the silence hung between them and he was forced to finish a little awkwardly: “I want to make you feel better.”

He wasn’t good at this. Hell, he’d hardly had the practice. It was he who was always needing others to comfort him, not the other way around. And he was nowhere near as good as Michael was, he could tell.

“Maybe I’m catching nightmares off you,” Michael considered, not seeing how much Gavin’s face dropped, even though the younger boy knew he was only kidding. He hoped. “It’s been so long… I don’t even remember his face that well but, like, I don’t know, he was all blurred in my dream. Still terrified the shit out of me, though.”

A warm hand rested on Gavin’s back suddenly, and he met Michael’s brown-eyed gaze.

“You okay?” Michael asked, brows furrowed.

Gavin nodded, tongue darting across his lips nervously. “Yeah - yeah, I’m fine.” Why was Michael even asking him that? He was the one who’d just woken up from a nightmare after all. Well… Gavin had earlier but that wasn’t the point! _Why am I so useless? Even when my best friend’s hurting. Useless._

Michael didn’t look like he quite believed him. His hand lingered on Gavin’s back as he tilted his head, gesturing for Gavin to sit down.

Gavin crawled onto the bed opposite him, leaning back against the wall, overlapping his legs with Michael’s. There was still a slight sheen to Michael’s face, a kind of ghostly look, and his curls framing his face were darker where they were damp. Michael was quiet, staring at Gavin, at his hands, around the room - the rhythmic ticking of the clock by his bed filling the room with noise, sounding a lot louder than normal.

“My dad weren’t a bad guy,” Michael spoke up - and green eyes were on him instantly, Gavin’s head snapping up. Michael avoided looking at him, eyes focused ahead.

“He hurt you,” Gavin added hesitantly, and Michael smiled sadly, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but not often. S’just those are the ones that stick in your mind and give you nightmares like this. But no,” he sighed. “He weren’t a bad guy.”

Gavin stared at him. “How?” he asked, unable to keep the utter bewilderment out of his voice.

“How?” Michael echoed. “He was just a guy who got fucked by society, time and time again. I mean, both his parents died young, he got kicked out of school, he worked loads of jobs and got fired from loads of jobs. He kept me and my brothers alive while my mom was out drinking all the time. He took his jail time like a man and paid the ultimate price.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, sure, he was a piece of shit at times and he could be fucking scary and mean, but I always think of it like this: He coulda’ fucked off and left us to fend for ourselves a long time ago, but he didn’t, he stuck around. He cared. Somewhere in his fucked up heart, he cared.”

Michael eventually met Gavin’s gaze, wistful. “I can’t like him for what he done, but I can’t hate him either. Already got enough anger in me, ain’t got room for hate. No point hating a dead man, anyway.”

Gavin opened and shut his mouth, unsure. “But he hurt you?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question but he was so confused. Michael was always telling him how Gavin’s own parents were pieces of shit and how much he hated them, yet he didn’t feel the same about his own?

“Gavin…”

“No. I don’t get it. He hurt you. He hurt you when you were young and small and didn’t know any better.”

“Jesus, Gav. Yeah, you want me to say it? He threw me and my brothers around a couple of times,” Michael snapped instantly. There was something in his voice - something determined, desperate, and suddenly Gavin realized what it was. Something he’d always known but had forgotten about - because his own relationship with his parents had been so fucked up and because he was still haunted by it to this day.

“You loved him,” he said quietly, face softening. “You still love him.”

It could be easy to miss. Michael got angry a lot due to what had happened to him. It would make Gavin worry about him a lot. And James. Others like Lawrence were just angry and that was how they were, but those boys? Michael and James could get angry even when they didn’t want to. And there was no one but their parents to blame. He used to think Michael got angry because of what his mom and dad had done to him, but recently he was beginning to think it was the fact that'd he'd been separated from them, that was what made him angry. Because somewhere - deep down - Gavin had always known Michael loved his dad.

Michael’s eyes were downcast, face relaxed in thought.

_He’s just as confused as I am,_ Gavin realized. _He understands that he has every reason to hate his dad, yet he just… can’t._

The realization gave him some kind of reassurance - even if he didn’t agree with Michael’s feelings himself. Who was he to say anything? They were Michael’s feelings and Michael’s alone. Gavin shouldn’t have any say in them.

“He was my dad.”

Gavin looked to Michael again, who was still so deep in thought.

“He was my dad and he worked every day of his life to try and give me a better life than he had. Maybe he hit me sometimes, maybe he got drunk and scared the life out of me, maybe he left us alone…” He slowly peered up at Gavin. “But let’s say maybe he’d been pushed around so much he sometimes lost control and we were the only he could take it out on, let’s say maybe he drank to try and forget about things for a few hours, let’s say maybe he only left us alone because he was working three jobs at once while my _mom_ was out getting high.”

He smirked, or rather one corner of his mouth tilted upwards, but there was no humor in it. “Or maybe I’m just making up excuses because believing he was just an asshole is far worse. Either way, guess I’m crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” Gavin replied, smiling. “But that makes two of us.”

Michael watched him carefully.

“Think about it,” Gavin continued. “You still love your dad for reasons you’re not sure are true or right and I’m a lab rat boy who still has nightmares about the experiments his parents made him do. But even I still try and think of reasons for them doing it.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Lab rat…”he began but Gavin waved him off.

“It’s alright. I’m not an idiot, I know that’s what you guys call me sometimes.”

“No,” Michael cut in, grabbing Gavin’s wrist urgently. “That’s not what we _call_ you, we just… we say it sometimes to describe how your parents treated you.”

Gavin shrugged. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. It’s accurate and besides, Geoff’s called me far worse.”

Michael blinked. “Right.” He sounded exhausted, and Gavin knew if there was one thing he was better than Michael at, it was surviving with a lot less sleep.

“Are you okay?” he asked, unable to remember if he’d already asked the question but uncaring if he had.

Michael let out a small breath of laughter. He glanced at Gavin out of the corner of his eye, like he was seeing the younger boy in a new light for the first time. Gavin stared resolutely back, and after a moment Michael gave a jerking nod.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t get many like that but they always suck. I’m usually alright when I go back to sleep though.” He shook his head, suddenly sad again. “I don’t get how you do it,” he said. “I don’t get how you have such horrible nightmares and are still so… Gavin-like.”

“I don’t get it either,” Gavin huffed. “But it’s just something I got to live with until hopefully, one day, I don’t have to anymore.” He reached out to press Michael’s arm, and felt the other relax under his touch. He wasn’t quite sure why he continued to hold on after that - but he was glad he did, and Michael made no effort to pull away.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway had them both whipping around, jointly clambering out of the bed and going to the window, kneeling on the window seat and peeling back the curtain. It was a police car, and it was Lawrence who stepped out, or rather was escorted out by a female officer.

They saw Burnie already moving to greet them, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, but they knew he hadn’t gone to bed that night. He never would with one of them missing.

“Let’s see if he gets told off for once,” Michael muttered. “Dunno why they let that jerk get away with so much.”

Gavin nodded his head, with a tired sigh. It had gotten to the point where it felt like a day didn’t go past without some sort of drama involving the newest boy. Today had been no different. Lawrence and Ryan had accompanied Burnie into town, only Ryan and Burnie had returned.

Ryan had been even more quiet than usual that evening, isolating himself to his room straight after dinner. Gavin had gone up and knocked on his door, but either Ryan was ignoring any visitors or he had his headphones on and couldn’t hear a thing.

Burnie had been stressed as well. Gus and Trevor had kind of taken the reigns when he got back, allowing the head carer to hole himself up in his office. That’s where he’d been when Gavin and Michael were sent to bed and that was where they knew he’d stayed until this moment now.

Gavin just wanted things to go back to how they were. Before, he hadn’t had to keep an extra eye on his stuff to make sure it wasn’t stolen or broken, he hadn’t had to worry about any of the others screaming or shouting at him for no seeable reason.

“What’s happening?” Michael asked, squinting through the glass. His eyesight never was quite as good as Gavin’s. The subject of glasses had been brought up a few times in the past but Michael had immediately shut it down, claiming he “didn’t want to look like no nerd”. Unfortunately for Michael, he soon might not have much choice in the matter.

Gavin peered down, rubbing the window with his pajama sleeve as it fogged up from his breath. “Nothing. They’re just talking. Can’t see Lawrence.”

“He’s not run off again already, has he?” Michael asked immediately. “That would be a record.”

Gavin looked closer. “No. I think he might be closer to the house cause they’re looking that way sometimes, I can’t see from this angle, though.” He turned to Michael. “Don’t look like anything’s gonna kick off. You wanna go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, might as well. What is it? Three?” He glanced at the clock. “Lucky we’ve not got school tomorrow.” He turned to Gavin, reaching out to grip his shoulder firmly - and fixed the younger boy with a stern look. “You’re not a lab rat, Gavvy. That might’ve been how your good-for-nothing parents treated you but _you_ are not a lab rat.”

There was an undercurrent of concern in Michael’s voice, and it wasn’t just about him worrying about Gavin being offended. Gavin smiled inwardly as he realised Michael was worried he might actually _believe_ that was all he was. _C’mon, I don’t really think I’m that useless._

“It’s alright,” Gavin assured him. “And it’s alright that you love your dad still. I might not get it myself but I get why you would feel that way. I think it means you’re a very nice person, Michael.”

“Ugh, nice… I don’t ever want people thinking I’m nice,” Michael muttered, and Gavin turned to him with a fond sort of smile.

Michael rolled his eyes. “C’mon then,” he got up from the window seat, pulling Gavin with him. “Bedtime again.”

“Yes, Burnie,” Gavin said, hopping straight into his. “See you in the morning. Wake me up if you have bad dreams or you can read one of Jeremy’s books if you want. Y’know that Hungry Caterpillar one might be my favorite, even though there’s only, like, twenty words in it. Oh and turn your alarm off, I don’t want that thing waking me up early.”

“Sure,” Michael replied, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn't want to interrupt your freaking beauty sleep.”

“Hey, people don’t say I’m the cutest for nothing,” Gavin replied, shutting his eyes. After a moment he frowned, eyes still shut. “Actually, what am I thinking? Jeremy's gonna be in here at eight whether we like it or not.”

He heard Michael groan and shift under his covers as he mumbled sleepily: “If he is, I’ll chuck him out the window. No regrets.”

 

––––

 

“Thank you so much,” Burnie thanked the two officers as they exited the car. He’d spoken to the woman on the phone earlier - seemed that a _lot_ of their time was spent picking up runaway foster kids. And with so few patrol officers active during the night, it was time that they probably wanted to spend doing something else. She’d seemed very understanding though, and smiled at Burnie as she opened the back door and brought a very disheveled looking boy out.

Lawrence’s hood was down now, hair a mess and his eyes red and tired. He purposefully avoided looking Burnie in the eye as he was released from the officer’s grip and wandered over to stand by the door, like a dog waiting to be let in.

Burnie meanwhile, shook the two officers hands, both of whom were young, too young to be police, Burnie thought, but that was most likely just his own age talking. “Can I ask where you picked him up?” he asked, glancing back as Lawrence kicked at the gravel in the driveway.

“Near St Peter’s park,” the male officer answered, an area a mile or so away from where Lawrence had initially run off. He said it with an almost hesitant sort of unease that had Burnie concerned. The officer lowered his voice, leaning into Burnie. “You should know, he was drinking alcohol when we found him.”

Oh. That didn’t surprise him nearly as much as it should have.

“Yeah… yeah,” he sighed, running a hand across his face, from both tiredness and guilt at admitting his knowledge to these officers of the law. “We are aware of it. Either he has a stash somewhere or some idiot’s supplying him. It’s a real problem, I know, but –”

He cut off - unsure if he should say that really was _the least_ of their worries when it came to the eleven-year-old.

The woman - and by the look on her face, the slightly more street-hardened of the two - smiled in understanding, nodding past him. “Bit of a handful, is he?”

Burnie looked back again. Lawrence was still waiting by the door, as quiet as he’d ever seen him. He nodded. “At the best of times,” he said, sharing a small laugh with the officer. “He say anything in the car?” he asked just before they left.

“No, been quiet - haven’t you young man?” she raised her voice slightly to call out to Lawrence, gaze hardening as he turned to look at her. “You're lucky you’ve got such a nice home to come back to, I’ve picked up plenty of kids who aren’t half as lucky as you.”

Lawrence was already turning his head away again before she’d finished her sentence, the picture of perfect disinterest, and she raised her eyebrows, shaking her head sympathically at Burnie, before tapping the car. "Right, we better be off, Luke." Burnie said his final goodbyes and thanked the cops profusely once more, waiting for them to drive off before he walked up to his charge and opened the door.

“Tired?” he asked quietly. No reply. Lawrence was looking everywhere but at Burnie, as he had been ever since he’d got out the car. “C’mon, to your room,” Burnie said, heading directly for the stairs and gesturing for Lawrence to follow him, which the boy did instantly. He seemed tired, in a sort of daze.

They walked in silence to Lawrence’s room at the far end of the second floor. Only once they got there did Lawrence overtake Burnie, slipping past him to open the door, trudging inside. “You want anything to eat or drink?” Burnie asked from the doorway as Lawrence kicked off his sneakers, rubbing at his eyes.

Lawrence looked to him, blinking heavily. He sniffed and shook his head.

Burnie regarded him, watchful eye on the boy’s movements and facial expressions, all of which were very uncharacteristic right now.

“Why’d you run, Lawrence?” Burnie leaned against the door, trying desperately to understand what was going on in the boy’s mind. “Lawrence, I asked you a question,” he prompted when Lawrence continued to act like he was invisible, as he picked up some clothes from the floor and chucked them onto a chair.

“Ryan attacked me,” Lawrence answered, quiet and terse.

Now it was Burnie’s turn to give him the silent treatment, because that wasn’t true, and Burnie knew _they_ _both_ knew it.

Lawrence froze in his actions as the silence lingered on and it became clear Burnie wasn't moving. His shoulders sagged, and he spun on the spot, defiant. “Cause I felt like it?” he drawled out, sarcasm dripping from every word. He was vying for Burnie to get mad, for anything, but Burnie wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Why’d you bring back the wrong food though? Did you just want to annoy, Ryan? Because I can assure you, young man, there's more entertaining ways of achieving that.”

Lawrence stared at him for a moment longer and then let out a noise of contempt, shaking his head, green eyes clouding over. “I got food, didn’t I? Who cares what it is?” He paused, mouth opening and closing on the verge of more to say, but ultimately shutting down. “I just… I –” His fists clenched. “I already told Ryan, I lost the stupid list!”

Burnie winced inwardly at the raised voice. The last thing he wanted was to wake up the whole house.

“And you didn’t think to just find him and tell him?” he asked, calmly.

“Nope,” Lawrence declared. “You know why, Burnie?”

“Why?”

“Cause I don’t give a shit what you or anyone else here thinks. Never have, never will. So suck on that.” He finished his taunt off with a big grin, but Burnie, watching silently, could see just how tense Lawrence was - could read it in the depths of his eyes and how carefully _uncaring_ his expression was. 

No, the young boy wasn’t as unfazed as he was pretending to be. What he couldn’t understand was the meaning behind the act. He could understand him acting out and doing stuff to annoy Ryan, a way of having some control when he felt he had so little; but Lawrence _had_ picked up the right items in general, and none of them had been dumb or clearly picked up to incite frustration out of Ryan or Burnie. 

“Alright…alright,” he murmured. “It’s late and neither of us wants to be having this conversation right now.” He started to pull the door but stopped at the last second, needing to get something off his chest. “Y’know it’s a shame, Lawrence,” Burnie gave him a long, speculative look; Lawrence stared back at him, as petulant as ever. Burnie sighed and continued: “Because up until that moment I’d really been enjoying my day with you.”

He left the boy then, planning to let Trevor know everything was relatively okay - who he knew had just as much trouble sleeping as Burnie did when it came to the kids- and then head to his room and try and get as much sleep as possible before thinking of yet more new ways tomorrow to try and combat the poor and concerning behaviour.

Not so simple.

He’d barely taken three steps down the hallway before a loud _crash_ echoed throughout the darkened house, and had him darting the tiny distance back.

Reopening the door, Burnie was not surprised to see the small boy stood next to what was once an upright bookshelf. Luckily, the bookshelf had been empty so there was no mess but the hinges holding it up had been forced out of the plaster, the screws bent out of shape. Lawrence was breathing heavily, his fist hanging by his side, angry red welts and cuts on the skin. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Burnie hoped the hand wasn’t broken. A trip to the ER was the last thing he wanted right now, especially after the conversation and day in general they’d both just had.

Lawrence’s jaw was clenched, staring up at Burnie defiantly. “Lawrence,” Burnie sighed, stepping forward. He wanted to look after the boy - it was his instinct to protect his kids, to help them if they were hurt.

But Lawrence was having none of it. He backed up into the corner, both fists clenching further, drawing more blood from the injured one - whole body shaking something fierce.

“Fuck. Off.” He spat, expression filled with hatred and anger.

Burnie stopped in his tracks, mouth tightening. He thought back to what the boy’s social worker had said and what had been in his file. That he was impossible to handle without resorting to force. Burnie was starting to understand how that might have been necessary for less experienced carers. Lawrence was still breathing heavily, quivering on the verge of a full-blown argument. He was ready for one, Burnie could see. Maybe even wanted one.

_Pick your battles._ Nothing Burnie could have said or done now was going to change anything. He looked sadly at Lawrence, gripping the door handle again. “I’ll have Trevor see to that,” he said. And without another word or look back, Burnie shut the door behind him.

He knew at that moment, it was the right decision to make. Didn’t make him feel any less shitty, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've said it before but I'm going to say it again and probably every time. Thank you to everyone who's left kudos or a comment. They make me very happy XD


	10. Chapter 10

_“You really want me to spell it out?” - Kovic_

 

“You hear any more bumps in the night last night?” James asked as they strolled out across the wide, open field.

“No. Just you, getting up to go to the bathroom.”

James grinned, giving Adam a shoulder check. “What d’you think happened? Found out anything interesting?”

Adam shrugged, unconcerned. “Lawrence punched something. Nothing else to know.” None of the kids had officially been told anything, but James and Adam had both awoken at the sound of a loud noise and raised voices in the middle of that Saturday night, and the next day the always angry boy had been sporting a newly bandaged hand.

“You’ve gotta start asking more questions,” James insisted, skipping and jumping alongside Adam - he always had to add that little bit of extra energy to any activity, even simply walking in a field. “You ask more questions you gain more knowledge. And knowledge is power,” he said, nodding sagely. “Knowledge is power.”

Adam pulled a face. “Guess I’ll stay dumb then,” he drawled.

“Aren’t you even a little bit interested?”

“Not really. I’ve got enough in my own life to worry about, I don’t need to get involved with others unless I need to.”

“How is the little guy?” James asked at the mention of Adam’s own life. It was always weird, Adam thought. Sometimes he felt like he was leading a double life. He had his one family, his Rooster Teeth family - where he spent the majority of his time and whose members he saw and interacted with the most often - and also his own family, one none of the others had even ever met - a mom and a brother he only saw once in a while under supervised meetings. One a place that represented safety and structure and _warmth_. The other a reminder of what his life had once been.

He shook himself as he realized James was still waiting for an answer. “Not so little anymore,” he said, referring to his younger brother, who had turned seven a few months back. “He’s hoping to get a puppy for Christmas, wouldn’t be surprised if he did, they spoil him so much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. As long as he doesn’t grow up to be a brat.”

“With you as his brother? How could he not?”

Adam rolled his eyes. He did feel strange at times, a lot less now than he used to, but still strange all the same. For so long he’d had the responsibility of looking after his kid brother, of trying to protect him and make sure he had enough to eat and good enough clothes and that he completed his homework on time. When they’d been taken into care, he had not only been expected to, but also forced to give up all that responsibility, to put his trust in a stranger to do a job he’d been doing for years.

These strangers, however, were no longer quite so strange. Adam had met them a number of times and his brother absolutely adored them. At the end of the day, he supposed that was the main thing that mattered, that the kid was happy, not that Adam would sometimes get jealous when he realized just how much better care his brother was under compared to the days Adam had tried to raise him.

“ _You were just a kid, Kovic_ ,” James would always tell him when he was in one of his gloomy moods. “ _Nobody expects a kid to raise another kid, but you did, anyway_.” Adam knew he was right, and that he should be and was beyond grateful that he and his brother were both safe and happy. Separated. That was the only thing that sucked. Now they were only family in the blood sense. If the other family lived close maybe they could see each other more often, but they didn’t, and they were often busy, so the contact they were required to have once a week was usually all he got. And what’s worse - Adam often felt he was the only one who seemed upset about that. His little brother was fine with it.

Then he would tell himself to stop being so selfish. Not one of the others got to meet up with their family so often - or had such a healthy relationship with them. James for example, walking - or skipping - along beside him. What was his last memory of his parents? Them shoving him into another stranger's home to be, for all intensive purposes, their _hostage,_ while his parents committed their crimes. Even if he did have visitation with them, which he didn’t, they were in a prison far, far away, Adam knew he would never go. There weren’t many kids with a hatred as strong as James’ for his parents. The same hatred that could consume and devour him like a wildfire alighting at the smallest, seemingly insignificant spark.

James was happy today. He’d been in a good mood for a while, was on a nice streak of cheery days filled with laughs and joy. Adam was over the moon as it lasted, but there was always a little voice in the back of his head, reminding him that one day it would be over, that there would be some incident that would cause James to blow up, to become the boy Adam could barely recognise and James could barely understand.

But now he was happy, that’s what mattered. That he was happy right at that moment. No need to worry about the future when it hadn’t happened yet. In fact, he was extra excitable because of what he was taking Adam to go and do.

They were in a large park, one that separated the elementary and middle school. If you were driving with no traffic it would take about five minutes, but as the crow flies, they were basically next to each other, only split by the park itself. It was lunch and a lot of the kids were out. It was often the only way friends from the different schools, like James and Adam themselves, would get to meet up during the school day, if you were a trustworthy, well-behaved student, as well as being old enough, of course.

Each school only had one entrance directly into the park and it was kept under heavy guard during breaks by teachers who had a strict list of who was allowed out. Obviously, if a kid really wanted out, it was possible to simply scale the wall to the other side, but James and Adam always found it much easier to just be good students, rather than deal with the trouble that would cause them.

So here they were, both dressed warmly as they fought against the oncoming wind. They’d sat and had lunch already, which had been when James had brought up his other plans for that break, one which he insisted Adam take part in.

Adam had listened, amused and gratified. “ _Sure_ ,” he’d said. “ _Why not? It’s always why not with you, isn’t it?_ ”

The guy they were meeting up with was a teacher of James’ who the older boy had struck up a bond with at the start of the school year. Mr. Cole was head of physical education, an ex-army officer who shared James’ passion for wrestling and any sort of physical activity in general. And today they were going to be learning a little something James said was called Tai Chi. Adam had said it sounded like something Barbara would put in her tea. James said it was the coolest thing in the world, after wrestling, of course.

“There’s Mr. Cole!” James said excitedly, halting and bouncing on the spot, pointing across the park. “He’s by the trees!”

Adam raised his head, squinting, and saw a man standing in a more sheltered area. “He’s big.”

James snorted, raising an eyebrow at him, like he wasn’t sure what point Adam was trying to make. “Well done,” he said to the younger boy, the sarcasm heavy.

“I _mean_ ,” Adam clarified. “He doesn’t look like he’d be a teacher.”

“Nah… guess that’s why everyone likes him,” James speculated as they grew closer to the teacher. A grin came to his face then, wide and genuine, when he turned and looked past Adam, back the way they came. “And there’s our other participant. Right on time.”

Adam swiveled, his own face breaking into a surprised grin.

“Hey? _”_ he mumbled in slight confusion under his breath.

It was Elyse, looking slightly nervous as Adam was learning was her natural state in most public places, walking and constantly looking around. She perked up when she spotted the two though, quickening her pace to a light jog as she eagerly moved to join them.

Adam turned back to James, intrigued. “You invited her here? To our special _bro_ time?” He used the term jokingly, as he always did to mock the way James always described anything they did together.

“Yeah,” James glanced at him quizzically. “Is that wrong?”

“Nope,” Adam stuck out his lower lip, pulling a nonchalant face. “Not at all.” James and Elyse seemed to be spending a lot of time together recently. Adam didn’t mind, they always came back from wherever they were laughing and shared inside jokes with each other during dinner later, whispering and giggling.

“Hey, James!” Elyse greeted as she caught up with them. “Hello again,” she said to Adam, who she’d seen when she came into their class to get a chair after her one had apparently broken when she sat on it. Adam had laughed so hard only to discover, after Elyse had left, that she’d kindly drawn a big smiley face in red pen over his completed math work.

A girl not to be messed with, Adam reminded himself.

They shared a brief conversation as they walked together the rest of the way to Mr. Cole. Now they were closer, Adam could see the teacher must have dragged out four school training mats and laid them out across the ground. Or he’d just carried them all on one finger because really, the guy was that _huge_. He’d have been intimidating were it not for the gentle expression on his face and grin when James started talking to him excitedly, explaining that “these two are my foster siblings I’ve been telling you about!”.

Once introductions had been made, the teacher took his place on his mat, facing the other three, and instructed them to take their places.

Adam shrugged off his worn backpack and dropped it in the grass, off the mat. He toed off his dirty sneakers, looking at Mr. Cole, bowed in his perfunctory, just-enough-to-be-respectful way, and moved to where James and Elyse were already kneeling.

James settled down when Adam knelt beside him. "This is so awesome."

"Jesus, James, calm down, you idiot.”

"Adam." Mr. Cole looked down at him.

Adam bent his head, hiding a smirk. "Sorry, Sir."

Mr. Cole regarded him. "Very well. Now that we're all here, the lesson can begin."

"Wait 'til you see what he's going to teach us! It's so cool! Mr. Cole showed us already inour classes, and-"

"James."

James grinned up at Mr. Cole. Mr Cole maintained a frown, though he seemed to struggle. Adam could tell the teacher was genuinely really fond of his student. "Perhaps James would demonstrate again."

James lit up and jumped to his feet, moving up to join Mr. Cole in front of the other two. He bowed to Mr. Cole deeply, grinning.

The teacher returned the bow, if not the smile. Elyse let out a quiet “woop” and James’ grin widened even further as he nodded to her, which Adam hadn’t thought was possible. It made his own heart feel warmer. It was good to see James’ spirits as light as they ever had been. Having Elyse join their home was good for him, he suspected. Good for all of them. Having a person around so positive and nice and caring - not that the others weren’t, it was just Elyse seemed to take it to another level.

James drew a deep breath and Adam watched the concentration screw his face up. He shifted his feet a few more inches apart, squared his shoulders, shifted his spine. Mr. Cole waited, and a slight imperfection in James’ centering corrected itself until he stood perfectly, the way he'd been taught.

Adam watched with pride. Always a perfectionist, his James.

The teacher turned his eyes to the other two. "Any guess what he's doing? James, please don't answer."

Adam shrugged. "He's standing there."

"He's balancing weird," Elyse noticed.

Mr. Cole smiled. "Very good. Adam, stand."

Adam jumped to his feet, bouncing light on his toes.

The teacher gestured to James. "Kindly knock him over."

"Yes!" James grinned at the two other kids and rubbed his hands together. "Ready, Kovic?”

Adam smiled through his uncertainty. “Yeah."

“Come and get me then!”

Adam charged him.

Elyse took note during the demonstration. When Adam came at James she watched in surprise. When he slammed into him and bounced off, and James didn't move a muscle, their mouths dropped open.

Mr. Cole smiled to himself. "Adam?"

"I'm okay!" Adam jumped back to his feet. "Awesome, James."

James grinned and relaxed.

"I don't get it."

Mr. Cole turned to Elyse. "Proper balance is of more than aesthetic importance."

"What's that mean?"

"It means it's more than just looking good," James explained as he and Adam took their spots kneeling in front of the teacher again.

Mr. Cole nodded. "By centering yourself perfectly, rooting your balance into the very ground, you can become an entirely unmovable object. Like you just saw, any attacker attempting to knock you off balance would do just as well going against a brick wall."

"That's impossible." Elyse regarded the teacher, wide-eyed with the nervousness Adam imagined she always got when she questioned any teachers teachings.

Mr. Cole only smiled, though. "James? Perhaps Elyse would like to try."

James jumped to his feet again readily, beaming his pride in his accomplishment.

Elyse stood in front of him and tried pushing with her hands. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she butted her shoulder carefully against James’ chest. Then she stood back and regarded him.

Elyse ran at James and tackled him like a football player trying to down another, similar to how she had done when James had annoyed her that one time.

This time however, a few moments later, it was Elyse picking herself up off the ground, gaping at James.

James was practically glowing.

Mr Cole set about instructing them, teaching how to position their feet, how to figure out the right center for them. Of course, no lesson like that was learned in a day, and by the end of the forty minutes there were two frustrated kids still knocking each other down easily.

The teacher dismissed them with a smile. "Remember, any lesson that can be taught in a single class is hardly worth knowing at all. We can continue this another time."

The four of them bowed - with varying degrees of respect - and Adam turned to Elyse. "My brother rules!"

James grinned, pleased. "I've just been working on it for a while,” he said, attempting some humility.

Adam wasn’t sure if it suited him, giving his shoulder a shove. ”Shut up, you're the best.”

“I agree.” Elyse said, standing on her tiptoes to poke her head between the two boys shoulders. “That was so cool!” she gushed, looking up at James.

The boy’s face reddened and his gaze averted. Adam saw the uncertainty in his blue eyes as he moved away, scratching at the back of his head, in a way that people do out of nervousness. “Aww,” he muttered, glancing up at Elyse a few times. “Well… thanks.” He stood their awkwardly, and completely unlike himself for a few seconds before grabbing for his bag and making a hasty exit. “Guess I better get going back to big school before I get locked out and have to climb over. See you guys later.”

Adam and Elyse watched with varying degrees of amusement and curiousness. “Why’s he so embarrassed all of a sudden?” Elyse asked.

Adam paused, and then found suddenly that the answer was on the tip of his tongue, though he’d been just as confused beforehand. “You gave him a compliment.”

“So did you,” Elyse pointed out.

“Yeah… but it’s different,” Adam chuckled, shaking his head a little and turning to walk back to their own school.

After a few paces Elyse hurried to catch up to him. “How?” she asked. He could feel her intrigued gaze on him.

“You really want me to spell it out?” It probably wasn’t right to act like it was so obvious when he himself had only just come to the conclusion, but it was one that made him feel so overjoyed he couldn’t help it. And as he spoke, he confirmed the theory in his own mind, settling on it like a drifting leaf finally come to rest. “He likes you,” he said, trying to hide his smirk.

Elyse opened her mouth, probably to once again say that James liked Adam, but then it clicked, and Adam enjoyed the emotions that ran across her face. Now Adam had seen her happy and annoyed, he’d seen her nervous and mischievous, but this was the first time Elyse seemed flabbergasted. And so he just had to repeat himself, purely for the fun of it.

“He likes you.”

––––

 

Burnie had received a call that afternoon.

The call had been from a teacher at the middle school they sent the kids to. They had a great relationship with the schools and the staff that worked there. All the teachers were kept well informed about any new children as well as any difficulties they might face in the classroom. In return, they gave Burnie regular check-ups on how all the kids were doing and if there was anything they needed to be concerned about.

Since Lawrence had started at his new school, Burnie had been contacted several times already about things he needed to be concerned about. The first one had been over the issue of a lighter, after Lawrence had revealed the item being kept hidden in his pocket when he threatened to burn another kid’s artwork down. Since then, Burnie had received calls over disruptiveness, disobedience, disappearances and just general disinterest in lessons.

Today had been another fight, one which had sent the boy to the Principal’s office and then to sit in isolation for the rest of the school day. The somber tones of Lawrence’s strained but understanding teacher had informed him that the boy had initiated a fight during lunch, charging at another boy and proceeding to attack him, going at him “like a terrier” had been her words. Fortunately for both boys, nearby staff had been quick to break it up, or rather pull Lawrence kicking and screaming away from the crying boy.

When asked why he’d done what he’d done, Lawrence had apparently been silent, before announcing very clearly - and this was the part that made Burnie’s toes curl - that he thought the Principal was “a fucking cunt”.

Surprisingly that had only earned him a week off school. Burnie wondered if it was because the school pitied them having to look after the boy for that extra time instead.

One glance at the boy’s face and Burnie knew the teacher hadn’t been over-exaggerating. As he walked through the door ten minutes or so after James and Jack, Burnie could see darkening red and purple bruises already formed on the left side of Lawrence’s face, and his chin had been scraped raw by what Burnie assumed had been the concrete ground he’d dived onto.

Despite his best intentions he was unable to keep the tone of despair seeping into his voice as he confronted the boy, hands on hips. “Jesus Christ, what’ve you done now?” It was rhetorical, obviously, but also conveyed his own complete confusion as to what went on in this kid's head.

Lawrence, as always, was armed ready with excuses and counter-attacks, like a workman with his tool belt. “ _Me_?” he protested vehemently. “I ain’t done nothing! Why don’t you ask the fucking asshole who gave me _this_ rather than blaming me all the time?” He pointed to his injuries on his face with his good hand.

_Jeez, at this rate they’re gonna think we’re the ones abusing him._

“Lawrence, I’ve spoken to your teacher, she told me what she saw. You ran up to the boy unprovoked, he didn’t even fight back.” He waved a hand in front of the boy’s face. He had no sympathy. In his mind, these actions deserved none. “You got this when you tackled the both of you to the ground.”

The boy paused, his expression slowly forming into a sneer. “Yeah, well it’s not my fault he’s a pussy,” he cackled.

Burnie shook his head at him, exasperated, struggling to keep a level head. “Come to my office.”  


“What if I don’t want to?”

Burnie held his arms open. “Am I gonna need to ask for help here?” There were three other trained carers currently in the building who would drag the boy into a locked room if Burnie thought it best.

Lawrence considered this and then sighed loudly, slumping forward, the sly smirk still firmly on his face. “No, I’ll come to your dumb fuckin’ office.”

“What happened then?” Burnie asked as he shut the door.

“What do _you_ think happened?” Lawrence countered, flinging himself onto the couch, settling a steely gaze on Burnie.

“Your teacher said you attacked a boy for no reason. And that he didn’t fight back.” 

Lawrence shook his head. “Nuh-uh.”

“So your teacher’s lying?”

“No,” he bristled slightly in his seat. “She’s just seeing what she wants to believe.  _Culero,_ ” he spat, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. This was as angry as Burnie had ever seen him, the last time had been a few days ago and they both remembered very well how that one had ended. Burnie didn’t want a repeat of that, but if he was honest with himself, he had never felt quite so lost.

Perhaps Lawrence’s anger came from an absence of hope. It certainly seemed as if he had had people in the past making him think he would never be anything. That seemed to be the case with a good many children in the system. There was no hope in them, because no one had any hope for them.

Eleven years old was far too young to be without hope. Burnie spoke accordingly. “Perhaps you might end up in a detention center, and prison might follow, if you keep on with this violent behavior. But Lawrence.” He reached out, put a hand on the small boy’s shoulder. “I think you can be more than that. I think you can prove everyone wrong.”

Lawrence tensed and jerked away from his hand. “I won’t do it by sitting here listenin’ to you talk, will I? Are we done yet?”

Obviously if there were magic words to solve this problem, Burnie hadn’t found them yet. He sighed. “We should try and work something out. There’s still time–”

“I don’t care how much time! I’m done! I’m not fighting with no one who don’t deserve it and I don’t need y’all telling me that I can be a better person or whatever. I don’t even know what I’m doing here! I was meant to be going to that fuckin’ detention center so why don’t you just hurry the fuck up and send me there anyway?”

He stormed off without waiting to be dismissed. Red-faced, furious. Stomping his feet though the thick rugs carried no sound either way.

Burnie dropped his head into his hands. There was something he was missing. It felt like it was staring him right in the face, and yet he was still blind to it, like he needed a special pair of glasses to reveal lights and colors not visible to the naked eye.

_What am I missing?_ The question kept on repeating inside his head, over and over again. _What am I missing? What the hell am I missing?_

 

––––

 

Geoff couldn’t have timed it any better. Literally, the moment he, Bruce and Ryan stepped through the door - having been teasing Ryan about the surprise gift Geoff had got him for his birthday the next day - they heard another one slam shut and saw Lawrence come tearing down the stairs, face red with anger. If he’d been thinking of charging through the front door he changed his mind at the sight of the three eldest boys, and instead turned tail and scarpered down the hallway.

After sharing a glance with Bruce and Ryan, both of whom looked completely unfazed by this point, more like a mixture of “here we go again” and “good luck with that”, Geoff headed off to find the boy, feeling like he needed as much of that luck as possible.

He half expected Lawrence to have vanished into thin air already, but instead found the boy had come to a dead stop, his back facing Geoff as he stood by the sliding glass door that lead outside. He was breathing heavy, fast. Fists were tight balls by his side.

Geoff waited.

Lawrence turned his head a tiny bit to the side, barely looking back at all. Geoff knew he was watching him though, that he was waiting for the slightest reaction to judge whether he should fight or flight.

Geoff nodded his head to the side, inviting Lawrence to come follow him. He wasn’t that taken aback when Lawrence accepted. The eldest he might have been, but at the end of the day, Geoff wasn’t a figure of authority; he had no real power over Lawrence, other than age and height. He was just another foster kid. Maybe Lawrence could do with another foster kid helping him out.

Geoff lead him to the basement door, flicking the light on at the top of the stairs. He took him to where he’d taken many of the others in times of need. Where he and Gavin had been frequenting recently as the skinny boy worked thought the remnants of anger and fear left by his nightmares. The basement was nothing fancy, just some weights and a running machine, as well as a pool table in the corner. What Geoff was usually down there for however, and what he went to at that moment, was the training bags.

Punching the bag was usually a great exercise for the younger and newer kids. All of them loved it. Geoff had loved it when he’d first been shown it by one of the old care workers. Kids who ended up in care, whether happy or sad or angry, were all helpless in their lives. Their future was always uncertain, always out of their control. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Geoff remembered he had jumped at the chance to lash out, to hit at something that gave him the rare feeling of being in control. It had been the same when he’d run away from home – he was finally taking his life into his own hands. He remembered Michael had been the same, and Adam, all of them, even little Jeremy. They’d all been here at one point in time.

But Lawrence didn’t do what Geoff expected. He turned away, wanting nothing to do with the bag when Geoff showed him. Not from any hesitance to use violence – that was more than obvious. Not from lack of anger. Anger seemed to be all that kept the small boy moving.

Geoff tried to encourage the boy to hit the bag. So much could be told from how a kid performed that simple exercise. Gavin had always hit with precision, worrying about footwork and how he held his fists. Too precise and cautious to be violent. 

Jack had been fascinated by the process of it. He seemed to take it as a chance to teach himself more about his own body and what he might be capable of.

And James would go one of two ways. Either he would be in his usual cheery mood and he took it as a sport, twirling and crying out like any boy who watched too many kung fu movies, or he was in his rare black moods and simply launched at the bag until one of them surrendered.

 It had told Geoff a lot about each of his younger brothers – information he’d often pass onto Burnie and the others. Lawrence’s refusal to even use it was a puzzle that made the boy stand out among more than a handful of equally angry, young kids. 

Whatever it was, Geoff was determined to find it out. Burnie had told him outright that Lawrence had been set to going into detention before he came to them. He was too violent. No one had wanted the boy, and children in the state home had feared him. He stole, he lied. He was vicious, it was what his file had said. Here, at Rooster Teeth, this was his last chance.

 After many more moments of silence and standing around, Geoff went to a bench in the corner, and beckoned the boy over. Lawrence followed, albeit hesitantly, and perched on the very edge on the far side.

 “Why don’t you want to use it?” Geoff asked.

Lawrence just shrugged, braced, like a boy who was used to being hit for refusing older kids what they wanted of him.

“You’ll hit other kids, when you know you’ll be punished. Why not take your anger out on something you’re allowed to give a proper hit?”

Lawrence looked at him with stormy eyes and answered finally in a southern touched accent. “Just cause you’re allowed to hit something don’t mean you should.”

An odd profundity to come from a kid like him, and Geoff was caught by it. “Why do you suppose you shouldn’t?”

“Bag can’t hit back.”

 Simple answer, but it suddenly felt like Geoff was looking at a completely different boy.

 Lawrence was angry, but though he considered everything a fitting target for his anger he he had just refused to attack something that couldn’t fight back. He understood the injustice of someone beating something just because they could.

It was that moment that deepened Geoff’s certainty that Lawrence hadn’t simply attacked the boy out of the blue. The other kid must have done something, even if it was completely unintentional or trivial to an outsiders eye.

Geoff knew he had to get to the bottom of this.

“Lawrence, you gotta talk to me.”

“I got to? I don’t got to do anything.” The words were there, they always were, but there wasn’t the same kind of fire behind the retort. Instead it was lacklustre, drained, not the sound of a boy who wanted to keep on fighting. 

Geoff sighed, small and contained. “You don’t like our furniture here, you’ve made that abundantly clear. Your shelf, I think, shares that dislike.”

“Great, even a piece of wood dislikes me.” 

Geoff bit back a smile. “But this could be an alternative,” he said, offering his hand to the punching bag again. “So you get angry, that’s okay, getting angry won’t get you in trouble, but how you focus it will. And before you say you don’t care, I know you do, even if you don’t like to admit it, cause you’re a smart guy.” 

Lawrence opened his mouth to retort, but hesitated. “I ain’t so smart.” That was the line that got him. Such, deep, genuine hurt in those words.

Geoff inhaled sharply, lips parting ready to speak but pausing the last second as he mulled over the ways he could work this. “Did this kid say or do something to make you feel dumb?” That felt like a good place to start. Find a reason.

Lawrence lingered a glance up his way, the turmoil in his eyes giving Geoff all the answers to that question, no words needed.

Geoff tried another one. “Did hitting him make it better?”

No answer. Geoff pondered if Lawrence would know the answer anyway. 

So he thought some more, and he tried a different angle.

“Did going after that kid solve the original problem? Or is it just the same as before?”

More silence. Geoff was left wondering what to ask instead, almost did, when… “It’s the same.”

“Did this kid cause the problem?”

The dark head shook.

“Is this an old problem?” Geoff asked, voice growing softer by the second.

“Yeah.” Lawrence was still, at the same time looking like he wanted nothing more than to run.

“And it’s one that hurts you a lot?” Geoff probed deeper. “That gets you into trouble and you feel you can’t do anything about it?”

“Yeah,” Lawrence whispered, blinking hard a few times.

Geoff stared at him. Saw how tense and frustrated and _upset_ he seemed. He started putting pieces of the puzzle together. He thought about what he knew about Lawrence’s history, of the homes he had been in and the ages he would have been. He thought back to the times Lawrence had got into trouble or misbehaved in the time he’d lived with him at Rooster Teeth. He thought about the boy’s school misdemeanours, of the classes he caused havoc in. He thought about the past weekend, of what he knew had happened between him and Ryan.

He thought…

 And suddenly it clicked. Like a coiled up spring waiting to be let loose, it sprang into his mind with so much force it had him taking a sharp breath in.

It seemed so fucking obvious now. It surprised him none the less, for another kid he might have found it insane it hadn’t been picked up on yet. But this was a kid who had been in a lot of homes, and who was used to hiding and protecting himself with anger and violence. Either way he was going to have to approach this carefully.

“Is it okay if I take a guess at what this problem is?” he asked quietly, hesitantly. “And if I get it right, can you let me know?”

Lawrence swallowed, but eventually nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, voice stuffed and thick. 

Geoff wasted no time. He whispered out an answer. And for the first time he saw some of the layers in the boy’s toughened shell crack open and Geoff instinctively reached out an arm to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder as Lawrence’s fists curled up tightly.

“Don’t touch me,” Lawrence said, but it felt like he only said it because he felt he had to.

“Alright,” Geoff murmured, taking in the sorry form. “It’s okay. I’ll sort this out. It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t.” 

“Yeah,” he assured quietly but surely. “It will.”

 

––––

 

Burnie rushed to place a hand up as the door to his office burst open while he was trying to make a phone call. To his surprise it was Geoff who was stood there and he rushed an apology to listen the boy out.

“You need to call Lawrence’s teacher as soon as you can,” Geoff said the moment Burnie was fully listneing.

The man was taken aback, ashamed later to admit he was thinking the boy had done something else that needed reporting. “Huh?”

“You need to call Lawrence’s teacher,” Geoff repeated. "She and all the staff need to know what’s really been going on.” His face softened into something of a half smile, forlorn and full of sympathy. “He can’t read, Burnie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culero = asshole
> 
> Happy holidays to everybody reading this!


	11. Chapter 11

_“Million dollars, but…” - Gavin_

 

“Michael, would you do it for five dollars?”

“No.”

“Ten dollars?”

“No.”

“Twenty dollars?”

“Still no.”

Gavin let out a huff of frustration, his blond fringe flying upwards around his hat. Michael really wasn’t in the playing mood today - must’ve had another bad math class or something. Gavin, on the other hand, was feeling particularly chirpy, and only wanted to engage in some playful dares and bets. He perked up as James, Adam, and Elyse walked out to join them - the small fountain that sat outside in the front had frozen over, and Michael and Gavin had been wasting time stabbing at it with sticks.

“Adam –” he began, only to be cut off instantly.

“Nope.” The older boy raised a knowing eyebrow as Gavin’s mouth hung open, before putting on a joking look of shock at Adam’s rudeness. Rather it had sounded more like “mmp” due to the jacket Adam had zipped up to his nose.

Gavin turned his attention to James instead, who seemed to have coordinated his outdoor attire to be Adam’s opposite - jacket done up to a normal level but his bobble hat, complete with a snowflake pattern, was pulled down instead, almost covering his eyes. “James, would you try and throw your shoe on that window ledge for five dollars?” Gavin asked, pointing to a window on the third floor, and saw the blue eyes immediately sparkle with interest.

“Got the money on you?” James asked, although he was already taking his sneaker off.

“No, but I’m good for it.” It was the truth. He’d always been good at saving up his money, even if he did just end up throwing it away of dumb bets eventually. What could he say? It made for great entertainment!

He leaned back as James flung the shoe off his foot, almost whacking Gavin in the face with it.

“Well, alright then!” the older boy cried out, waving it in the air and bellowing like he was performing to an audience of four hundred rather than four. “Lady and gentlemen, round up, round up! Prepare to be amazed!”

Next to him, Adam visibly facepalmed, gloves thudding against rosy cheeks, before moving over to lean against the fountain with Gavin and Michael. Elyse stood back too, bemused as James began spinning his arm like a windmill, before pausing in some Usain Bolt position and bouncing forward a bit.

“Aim it, angle it, adjust the power levels…” James muttered to himself.

Adam rolled his eyes.

“And fire!” James launched the shoe with a power Gavin didn’t realize he was capable of, sending it shooting up towards the window ledge.

“Woo!” James cried out excitedly, throwing up his arms in triumph.

They all watched in silence as the sneaker sailed past it’s intended destination, traveling even higher to land with a finalizing _clunk_ on the roof.

Gavin struggled to maintain his laughter. “Huh… guess it’s harder than it looks.”

James’ arms flopped back to his sides. “Aww, man,” he whined.

“Gus’s gonna kill you,” Adam told him, with an expression that implied he expected exactly what just happened. “Actually, no, Burnie’s gonna kill you and Gus’s gonna feed you to his dogs.”

“It’s fine!” James proclaimed, smiling again, still just as enthusiastic. “I just need something to knock it off with.”

“How about your other shoe?” Michael suggested slyly.

James pointed a finger towards him, eyes lighting up further. “Ah hah! An excellent idea, young man in the crowd!”

“No, James –” Adam began.

Too late. In the blink of an eye, the other sneaker was off, sailing through the air. James - now only stood in his socks on the damp ground - watched again with the rest of them, as literally, the exact same thing happened.

_Clunk._

“Hmm,” he pondered, fondling his imaginary beard as he spun back around. “Is anyone getting a sense of deja-vu?”

The others were beside themselves. The moment the second sneaker had landed on the roof, Gavin had to grab onto Michael for fear he would slip back into the iced water from his laughter. James grinned too, pleased to have made them laugh. Gavin and the others knew that would have been his plan all along, no matter how crazy he appeared at times. 

That was James, never one to shy from having a great joke played out at his own expense. Never one to pass up the opportunity of bringing a smile to the others faces. Though sometimes hard to recognize for people who didn’t know him as well, the kids had learned from experience exactly when James was just playing it up for a laugh, and Adam - always the perfect foil for James’ sense of humor - said as much. “You knew that would happen, you idiot.”

Elyse stepped forward, putting a hand on James’ shoulder as he danced about, fighting a losing battle to keep his feet dry. “You’re thinking about it all wrong. Instead of throwing more stuff up there you should just roll something out of the attic window… or maybe make a hook thing or something to grab it.”

James turned, delighted, back to Adam, jerking a thumb at Elyse’s smiling face. “See, Kovic? At least some of us are using our heads.”

Adam shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you dare include yourself in that sentence.”

The boy ignored him, turning then to Gavin, who’d been watching the exchange with interest, melting some of the ice in his gloved hands. “Anyway, where’s my five dollars?” he asked him, holding out his own hand expectantly.

Gavin blinked. “You didn’t get it on the ledge!” he exclaimed.

“Oh…” the memory dawned on James’ face, a large toothed grin breaking out. “That was it, wasn’t it?”

He was met by the body of Adam tackling him to the ground, scrambling around frantically as the younger boy tried to pin him down.

“So much for your perfect balance now, sucker!” Adam cried out.

“Hey! Not fair! I wasn’t ready!” James protested, wriggling violently. “And I’ve got no shoes on!”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay,” Gavin spoke up, attempting to break up the scuffle. He turned to Michael for help but his best friend had a faraway look in his eyes, not really paying too much attention. Come to think of it Michael had been rather quiet all of a sudden for the past few minutes, normally he would’ve been calling James an idiot right alongside Adam.

_Perhaps he’s cold,_ Gavin wondered. The temperature had kind of noticeably dropped a deal since they’d come outside.

“ _Guys_!” he tried again, but his voice had never been that powerful or carried that much authority, and the two boys continued rolling about on the ground.

Gavin sighed, watching them helplessly, when suddenly, there was a _splashing_ sound and water cascaded down on the two, causing them to shriek loudly and leap to their feet.

The two and Gavin turned to see Elyse standing by the fountain, own hand hovering dangerously over the icy water. “Gavin was trying to say something,” she said with a pointed look at them.

James poked his tongue out.

“Gavin was trying to say something,” Adam mumbled childishly under his breath.

Nevertheless, they didn’t take the chance of getting an ice shower again, and sat down on the fountain wall, James kicking his damp feet under Adam’s legs. The younger boy grumbled but didn’t make any move to push them out.

“Okay, okay, let’s try this,” Gavin tried again, looking at them each individually. “This is hypothetical only - that’s when you talk about something imagined, or not yet tested,”he added, half smile forming in anticipation. “Million dollars… _but_ for the rest of your life, every dog you ever see, you have to kiss it on the mouth.”

“Eww!” was the general reaction that emitted after that particular hypothetical, immediately succeeded by Adam and James both simultaneously answering: “Hell no!” and “Hell yeah!”

Adam gave James a disgusted stare. “You don’t need to explain,” he said quickly.

“Yeah he does, that’s part of the game,” Gavin put in, grinning. This was exactly the type of outcome he’d been hoping for. “So, why would you do that, James?”

“Well, because it’s a million dollars and I like dogs… not that much but it’s not like I’m kissing cows or something.”

“Curdy…” Elyse mumbled.

“But think, James,” Gavin said, intentionally exploring the idea further. “Think how many dogs you’ve already seen and how many more you’re gonna see. And you’ve gotta kiss all of them. Little ones, big ones, some of them might be vicious and tear your face off!”

James thought about it some more. “I’d knock them out first,” he decided after a moment.

Adam snorted. “Great, so now we all know James will be going to jail for animal abuse. Give us another one Gav,” he instructed.

They played a few more rounds, each taking a turn to come up with their own ridiculous and often disgusting “million dollars but…”. Gavin couldn’t have been happier. The concept had been in his head for a while, making up games in his head had become another method of helping him to get to sleep easier. He’d always been imaginative, but often that imagination could lead his mind to darker places. However, with his newfound positivity simply with the act of going to sleep, it had manifested into something far more jovial.

When it came to be Michael’s turn, however, the four were met with silence. Michael had remained quiet, Gavin realized, but he’d been so caught up in enjoying the game with the others, that he’d failed to pay attention to his best friend’s seemingly sour by the second mood.

Gavin instantly felt bad. Ever since that one night, when Michael had awoken from a nightmare, things hadn’t been quite the same. Gavin couldn’t put his finger on it, it wasn’t necessarily a bad or good change, but it was different, and somehow, after that night… they both seemed older. Like one small conversation had matured them more than they already were. Maybe it was because they had both come to the conclusion that what they thought the other was thinking, was not necessarily always true.

“Hello?” Gavin waved a hand in front of his friend’s face. “Hello, earth to Michael?”

Michael started straight past him, stormy faced.

“Is something the matter?” Gavin asked in a hushed whisper.

Michael’s expression flickered, and then he took a deep breath in, body tightening up. “Yeah. He is,” he muttered, nodding to the front gate.

The others turned to look also, and then there was a collective murmuring of understanding.

“Do you think we should tell an adult?” Elyse spoke up hesitantly, once they’d all had a good stare.

“Nah, they’ll let him get away with it like he does with _everything_. Might as well leave him be so he can kill himself quicker.”

“Michael!” Gavin hissed.

The older boy only sneered, though. “What? I don’t give a damn about him and none of you do either.”

There was an awkward silence as no one disagreed with what Michael said, and they watched on as Lawrence dropped the cigarette to the ground, stamping on it before disappearing around the corner, presumably heading off down the road.

“You know what I heard?” Michael asked, a strange loathing smirk on his face.

They shook their heads and Michael raised his own in a somewhat prideful manner. “That he got put in care cause he murdered his dad. I’m not lying,” he added when they all opened their mouths to protest. “I heard Trevor and Peake talking to Burnie in his office about it.”

More silence. How quickly their laughter had dissolved into tension. Gavin for one was bewildered by this supposedly new information. And he didn’t doubt Michael, he knew Michael wouldn’t lie. Not to him, not about something like that.

James, on the other hand, was stony-faced. Gavin’s instincts had him curling in on himself slightly as the telltale signs of James’ rage built up. The way his breathing had quickened, the whiteness in his knuckles from clenching them too hard, and the way his normally sky blue eyes turned icy.

The boy took a step towards Michael, body bristling. “You’re not supposed to listen to stuff like that. It’s private.” He spat out every word like they were poison.

Michael averted his gaze, suddenly uncertain, unsettled too by how quick James' demeanor could change. “So?” he mumbled. “If they’re putting a murderer in with us, we ought to know about it.”

“No.” James replied, dark and serious. “We shouldn’t. And I bet you didn’t hear them say that. They wouldn’t do that. They don’t talk about stuff like that, not in that way, they… they…” he struggled, head falling.

“What?” Michael muttered.

The elder boy darted his head back, glaring. “It’s just _wrong_ , Michael,” James continued, voice rising, taking another step forward, looming down over the smaller boy. Gavin had always found it both fascinating and scary. How a boy so full of life and happiness as James was, could switch so suddenly and become the exact opposite. Genuinely, it was really quite terrifying.

“Listening about what happened before we got here, whatever you think you might have heard, that ain’t right,” James insisted, each breath coming faster. “What happened to some of us before we got here, we don’t ever want it to be found out that way. I couldn’t think of anything worse… No. It’s _wrong_.” His eyes shut then, and he was still until abruptly, like a predator springing forward, he launched at Michael “It’s wrong!” he yelled, grabbing the boy’s shoulders.

There were tears in both boys eyes and Gavin and Adam started yelling at James to stop, both making a move to haul him off Michael, who was frozen, eyes wide as James continued to yell how wrong he was.

But as soon as it started, it was over.

Gavin stared, confused as to what had changed or what had occurred in that short space of time. Then he saw - mainly because James’ head was suddenly turned down, in shock, frozen in mid-rage.

Elyse had grabbed ahold of his hand. Little Elyse, who was about a head shorter, had grabbed onto the raging boy and was gently pulling him away.

James stared some more, like he was stuck somewhere in the middle, between his almost uncontrollable, untameable anger and the reassuring calmness Elyse was projecting.

He continued to stare, then slowly tightened his fingers, reciprocating the gesture. He sighed, long and purposefully, releasing any of major lingering anger. He looked back at Michael, Gavin could see the regret and shame deep in those blue eyes, as there always was whenever he flew off the hook. “Michael, I’m sorry,” he said, timid. 

Michael was still unnerved, quiet. Gavin couldn’t blame him. That whole scene had been unnerving for Gavin and he hadn’t even been the one at the end of James’ rage.

“Shake it,” James said, gaining some confidence back, holding out his other hand, the hopefulness in his voice evident.

Michael glared at it suspiciously, but James repeated himself, calmly. “Shake it,” he insisted.

Michael looked up at him quizzically. “I’m sorry too,” he said, before shaking hands.

Once over, Elyse cleared her throat. She glanced around nervously before allowing a smile to grace her lips, sending Gavin a wink. “Okay then, million dollars but every full moon you have to spend a night in a beaver lodge dressed as a giant beaver.”

There was a pause, and then they were all laughing again, even if it felt a bit more forced than before. It didn’t matter, they needed to laugh after that.

James shook his head, offering Michael another apologetic smile. “Canadians man…”

 

––––

 

“Is it me, or should I be worried about this?” Bruce asked him as he sat by the opening that made up a window, inspecting their domain.

Jack shuffled over to see and grinned when he spotted the younger kids gathered around by the fountain. Even though he couldn’t hear them from practically the other side of the grounds, he could tell by their movements and gesticulations that they were all laughing about something. “Nah, they’re just learning from us,” he told Bruce, going to sit back in his own corner.

“Yeah, but we just sit here and talk shit together. Girls, sports, _sometimes,_ ” Bruce made sure to add when Jack gave him a look of ridicule. “How much of an idiot we made ourselves look like at school today.”

Jack nodded. “More like it.”

“But with those little ‘uns I get the horrible feeling they’re actually _plotting_. Against us.” Jack snorted at the genuine look of worry on his brother’s face.

“If I was their age I would be,” another voice added from the corner opposite Jack.

“Since when has age stopped you from acting like a kid?”

Geoff, busy scratching at his back, nodded in agreement at Ryan’s query. “This is true.”

The older four at Rooster Teeth were sat where they often sat during free times. Childish though it may seem, it was a place they treasured - a treehouse in the tallest tree at the back of the garden. Burnie told them it had been there since he’d started, but it had been renovated countless times over the years to make sure it and the tree were still stable. It was strictly out of bounds for the younger ones and the four of them was generally maximum capacity, although occasionally they’d supervise one of the little ones up for a special occasion, if it was their birthday for example, or that one time Jeremy had played hide and seek with himself and gotten upset when no one came to find him.

Currently, Geoff was glued to his phone, Bruce and Jack were just sat talking about random shit, and Ryan provided the soundtrack, his knives sticking into the wooden planks that made up the walls, as he enjoyed making use of his birthday present from Burnie.

The now sixteen year old’s birthday had been a quiet affair, but that had been expected. Ryan had reluctantly allowed Burnie to hold a house party so all the other kids could chuck their gifts at them - some thoughtful like Adam’s tickets for Ryan’s favorite band, and some… well, _interesting_. Jack didn’t think he’d ever be able to recreate the noise that exited his mouth the moment he saw the cushions and blankets with Ryan’s face printed out on them.

Geoff always did know how to make a scene.

All four perked their heads up at the sound of someone making their way up the ladder, followed a moment later by a series of tapping on the door. “That’s not the secret code,” Bruce and Jack called out.

There was a loud sigh from behind the wood and then a tired: “Knock, knock.”

“Trevor,” they came to the conclusion unanimously.

Ryan released the latch and swung the door open, allowing the man to clamber up to join them. Geoff grinned. “C’mon Trev, one of these days we’re gonna think you’re an intruder for real, and then Ryan’s gonna detach the ladder and you’ll fall to your death before you even get the chance to kill Burnie and take your place on the Rooster Teeth throne.”

“Hello, Geoff,” Trevor simply responded, completely disregarding the statement. “Right,” a blank look spread across his face, “um… what did I come up here for?”

“You came up here to remind us of your terrible memory,” Bruce told him.

“Haha,” Trevor droned, “unlike you lot, I don’t get to just sit around after school’s out. I have work to do.”

“Yeah, works on his game!” Geoff cried out, holding out his fist to the man. “Playaaa!” Trevor batted it away and Geoff, laughing, mentioned: “Oh, by the way, Trev. Don’t go in the downstairs bathroom. Toilets blocked.”

“Yes!” Trevor’s eyes lit up. “Boys don’t –” his face fell. “Wait, you already _knew_?” he exclaimed, almost distraught.

“Well… yeah,” Geoff mumbled, giving the other boys a sly smirk. “I’m the one who blocked it.”

The treehouse filled up with the laughter of four teens and the grumblings of one very unimpressed young carer. “You’re all very disgusting, immature boys,” Trevor told them.

“Pardon me for being so rude, it was not me, it was my food,” Geoff sing-songed gleefully.

Trevor’s lips curled up into a half smile, half snarl. “And it’ll me my pleasure to kick your door in at seven in the morning to help me with laundry.”

“Ooohh…” all four of them echoed as the man sighed and headed back down to ground, slamming the door behind him.

“Remember when he first started here?” Geoff asked once he’d gone, reaching his arm around to scratch at his back again. “Ah, they grow up so quickly.”

The chuckles took a while to die down. It was always good fun playing on Trevor’s good nature. He was like their older brother and would always take whatever they threw at him, no matter how fed up he seemed at times. And make no mistake, that guy could throw it back at them just as much.

After the laughter Jack noticed Bruce yawning multiple times in a row, stretching his limbs out like a cat and rubbing at his eyes. Come to think of it, Bruce had seemed slightly less energetic than normal.

“Alright?” Jack asked once he was sure Bruce had finally finished his yawn spree.

“Mmm, tired,” Bruce mumbled. “I was, like, stuck online really late last night try’na find Christmas presents. I’ve done most of the lil’uns, they’re easy, but you guys are hard.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.”

“Yeah, well, just another couple of late nights and I’ll find something. Just wish I was blessed with your great gift giving ability.”

“Or you could start earlier than two weeks before Christmas,” Jack suggested.

“Be fair. I’m a whole week earlier than last year.”

Jack smirked. That was true. Bruce was renowned for doing everything last minute, no matter how important or large scale it might be. Apparently the urgency propelled him to do his best work - that was what Bruce would have people believe anyway. Jack was pretty certain his foster brother just had no time management skills. He took living in the moment to the extreme and often impractical.

Jack squinted his eyes, pushing up his glasses, as he spotted something under Bruce’s sleeve. “Bruce?” he queried, leaning forward, pulling the clothing up. “Where’d you get those?”

“Hmm?” the older teen glanced down at the dark bruises dotted about on his right arm. “Oh?” he shook Jack’s hand off, shrugging unconcernedly. “Baseball.”

“I didn’t know you played baseball.”

“Oh!” Bruce turned to him in surprise. “Yeah, my bad, I thought I’d told you. Started the other week. Just some of the guys I’ve become friendly with convinced me to.”

Jack, letting out a breath of relief he didn’t realise he’d been holding, leaned back. “King of the school, Bruce,” he said. “You’re already on your way there."

Bruce didn’t disagree with that statement. _I wonder what it’s like_ , Jack pondered. _To be that popular at school._ Jack counted himself lucky that his few close friends hadn’t abandoned him since Bruce had left, that - unbeknownst to him - apparently some of them had been hanging out with him simply because they wanted to, not because he’d been with Bruce all the time.

“Man, high school’s actually so good dude, you’re gonna love it,” Bruce told him with a distant smile, like he was thinking back on all the great memories he already had.

“Would you stop that?” Ryan’s suddenly said, annoyed.

“What?” Geoff met his glare. “Scars’ itching. Always do in the cold.”

“Oh…”

The moment’s awkward silence didn’t last long. Geoff didn’t allow it to. The eldest grinned and reached over to slap Ryan upside the head. His grin widened as he looked to Bruce and Jack. “Only I’m allowed to do that,” he told them.

“You’re not allowed. You just do it,” Ryan muttered.

“Same difference, buddy.”

“It’s definitely not.”

That debate could have gone on forever were it not for the calls from outside.

Ryan’s head perked up eagerly, nose practically sniffing the air from all the way out there as he sat up like an eager puppy. “Mama Peake’s calling.”

Geoff glanced at him, amused. “You’re up quickly. What we having tonight?”

“Linguine, I thought –”

“Race ya!” Geoff took advantage of Ryan’s pause to leap for the door and scramble out ahead of the teen.

“Youuu!” Ryan glared down at him, unable to do anything now, lest he felt like jumping the whole way down and snapping both his legs.

Jack met Bruce’s gaze, sharing a fond and amused look. More often that not it could be confusing just _who_ exactly were the older two here. The complete opposite to Ryan and Geoff, Bruce held out a polite arm to Jack, gesturing for him to take the lead. Jack nodded just as considerately, following the older teens down, who by now had made it to the bottom and were racing each other to the food, slipping and sliding on the muddy grass.

_Pair of idiots - the both of them._

Jack made his way carefully down - the climbing had always been his least favourite part of coming up here - and besides, it wasn’t like there wasn’t going to be enough food for anyone. The staff usually cooked up enough to feed a small herd of elephants.

Bruce climbed down just after him, and as he climbed down, Jack couldn’t help notice further bruises, lying just under the bottom of his shirt, only visible now as Bruce’s arms stretched up. Jack frowned up at him. Bruce had said the ones on his arm had come from baseball, and Bruce had never lied to him in the past. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help it, they gave Jack a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

No… he didn’t like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, back after my break for the holidays. Hope everyone enjoyed themselves! Should hopefully be back to updating more frequently again... hopefully.


	12. Chapter 12

_“You do this weird thing to me.” - James_

 

James’ family had always celebrated Christmas. It had been a celebration unique to them, one that encapsulated all they stood for and had worked for throughout the year. It was fancy and expensive and, at times, gaudy. 

It was not a Christmas celebration meant for young boys but he was expected to do his bit and act every bit the perfect, obedient son for the whole day and night anyway.

There were sparkly decorations, there were mounds of presents, there was always a ton of food. But there were none of the homemade touches that really made Christmas what it should be. Everything was always arranged by the staff. The decorations put up by housekeepers, the presents bought by nannies, the food made by catering.

And from the time he was old enough to wander off by himself, his parents would always have him undertake a special task during the certain functions they hosted. At Christmas, during the day, he was expected to open his presents - the most big-budget, high-end gifts that he never cared for - and other than that, he was to stay out of his parents' way. By the evening though, that was when his work would begin, because that was when all the rich and corrupt assholes would be arriving.

Dressed up in tight, expensive and completely uncomfortable and restrictive clothing, he would drift through the crowds. He’d been brought up to listen in on the conversations - to memorize any information that his parents might deem beneficial. Even the simplest thing, like someone’s daughter getting married the next month, he was to take it all in and report back to his parents at the end of the night. Refusing to was not an option. He’d tried that once before and spent the next few weeks locked up in his room with absolutely nothing to entertain him. Boredom was not something he coped with well, back then as well as present day.

So he’d done as they’d asked, and he’d been their little spy.

James didn’t often like to think back on those times, or any time that he spent living with his parents. In fact, the moment he did, he’d feel the familiar tingles of anger begin to emerge in his mind. But there was one time, just one, that he thought about often, that tossed and turned in his head during moments of reflection.

It had been his last Christmas he’d spent with his parents before he’d been taken away - they’d held a charity function that anybody who was somebody had attended. He would have been six but sometimes James felt like he was far older back then than he was now.

Performing his duties as usual - lingering on the edges of groups, acting every bit the innocent young boy, storing up what was being said by the attendees - he’d found himself on the far end of the great hall where the party was being held. It was quiet here, mostly people were just walking by to go outside to smoke.

James had paused himself to peer out into the dark night, unable to make out anything much other than his own reflection and the reflection of the guests.

“ _You see more than most, don’t you boy?_ ” a voice had spoken up behind him, deep and rich, perhaps with a slight accent to it that James couldn’t quite place.

James had frozen. No one talked to him. Not at these events. Not ever. At least not in that way.

He’d turned and come face to face with a fairly short, tanned skinned man - decked out in a three-piece suit and looking as well manicured and presentable as the rest - but there was something _different_ about him. As James had stared up while the man ran a hand through his slicked-back dark hair, he just had a sense that he hadn’t met anybody quite like this before, like when you smell a new spice for the first time, some part of his brain was telling him this was a new breed of guest.

“ _Everything and everybody here - you see right through it,_ ” the man had spoken on despite James’ silence. He’d taken a seat, on the couch nearby, perching so delicately on the edge he mightn’t have been resting at all.

“ _I don’t understand_ ,” James had said, whispered, unsure about speaking to a guest when he’d been trained all his life not to.

The man had smiled, thin but not quite unpleasant. “ _Maybe not, but you see it all the same._ ” He’d beckoned James forward, a slight tilt of his head that seemed to work like an invisible fishing line, reeling the boy closer. “ _Tell me, what do you see?_ ” he asked when James was stood next to him. 

James glanced up, but only briefly, spotting nothing special. “ _A party. A lot of people, talking and laughing. Loads of food and drink_ ,” he replied, short and to the point, still nervous about where this was leading.

The mystery man had chuckled, or rather hummed with vague amusement, fixing James with almost black eyes. “ _And if you look closer?_ ” he asked.

James stared. Stared at him and then slowly raised his head to stare around. Time had felt weird all of a sudden, like everybody else was moving slower apart from him and this man. “ _Everything’s perfect… too perfect_ ,” he’d heard himself mutter. “ _None of it’s real_.”  

“ _And closer?_ ” 

James shut his eyes, he didn’t need them to know what was really going on. He could picture the scenes, picture the faces, hear the words that dripped from everyone’s silver tongues.

“ _They pretend it’s for charity. But it’s not. Not really. It’s not a party_ ,” he’d said. “ _It’s a meeting._ ”

“ _A meeting for who?_ ” With his eyes still closed it felt like the man was inside his head, like he’d leapt from the real world straight into James’ subconscious.

“ _For the worst kinds of people_ ,” he answered, sounding surer than he had done in a long while. “ _The talking - nobody really cares about anyone else, they’re just trying to see what’s in it for them. The party’s just a disguise, to hide all the bad stuff that they all do._ ”

“ _And closer_ ,” the voice in his head purred. “ _What do you see, James? What’s really connecting everyone here together? What is at the root of it all?_ ”

James didn’t bother to ask how the man knew his name when none of the other guests ever bothered to learn. Instead, he squeezed his eyes tighter, feeling an anger simmering - one that had been building up for some time but so far, was yet to be unleashed. No, back then, maybe there’d still been some hope for him. 

He’d taken a deep breath, before opening his eyes, speaking the answer he knew to be true at the same time.

“ _Evil._ ”

“ _A strong word, for a boy so young._ ”

James’ jaw hardened. Maybe, but James wasn’t young - hadn’t been treated anything like a child in a long time. “ _It’s true. Everyone… everyone is evil._ ” The anger he’d felt burning up extinguished, leaving him sounding whiny, like a spoiled brat if no one knew better. 

“ _But not you?_ ” the man had asked, voice as deep and rich as ever. “ _You’re not evil?_ ”

The question had taken James by surprise. “ _I –_ ” he faltered, stumped by what almost sounded like an accusation.

The man had chuckled again, louder this time, creases forming in the corners of those dark eyes. “ _I laugh in the face of those who say children can’t be evil, that they’re innocent little treasures who must be protected_ ,” he’d told James, conspiratorially, as if it was some great secret he was sharing. “ _We’re all born with a darkness inside of us, James - you think me a liar but let me pose you this: have you ever hurt an innocent creature?_ ”

“ _No!_ ” James had been adamant on that, insulted. He would never treat anyone how adults had treated him his whole life. He’d always told himself that when he grew up and was bigger he would never be anything like that.

The man was not startled by his sudden outburst - he appeared to have expected it, as he fixed James with a searching gaze. “ _Are you sure?_ ” he probed, voice lowering to a quiet, gravelly whisper. “ _Then you’ve never, let’s say, squashed a bug under your foot?Never seen how hard you can stand on a tiny ant before it crushes under your almighty power?_ ”

What? What did that have to do with anything?

James had been left speechless, mouth hanging slightly open as he recalled all the times he _had_ done exactly that. But that was okay, wasn’t it? Alright, maybe not okay, but everybody must have done that at some point.

The mystery man took in his face, satisfied with what he saw. “ _You see? It all stems from when we’re young, innocent children who crush little things just because we can and because it’s_ fun.” His dark eyes sparked, something dangerous lighting up, and for the first time since meeting him James felt a little more than nervous. “ _Some people just allow that evil, as you say, to run a little bit more freely._ ”

“ _Who are you?_ ” James had asked, already backing away.

“ _Me?_ ” The man had appeared to think about it for a second, intrigued by the sudden attention on him. He smiled at James then, a full, open-mouthed smile, and the young boy caught a glimpse of gold shimmering amount the rows of pearly white teeth as he gave him his answer, murmuring roughly: “ _Just another evil man at this delightfully boring and fake party of your parents._ ” The glint in his eyes was wild, animalistic. James had grown scared - not only by the man’s words and aura but by the chord of truth he’d struck in James’ head.

_Everyone can be evil._ Nothing had ever made more sense to him. And it was terrifying.

He had hurried his way back through the crowds, not bothering to offer any form of farewell - slipping through tiny gaps between people’s legs, dodging the men tipsily stumbling around with drinks in hand, ducking under the wait staff carrying their trays with champagne.

He’d scampered to his mother’s side, dressed in all her glory, as usual, white dress, high heels, gold jewelry, hair and makeup styled to perfection, performing her own well-versed dance of kindness and enjoyment.

She’d glared at James when he’d reached up to tap her on the hip, teeth worrying his lower lip. “ _Who was that man?_ ” he had asked before she had time to pull him to one side and secretly reprimand him, pointing to the stranger as the man made his way through the crowds, looking like he was ready to head out.

“ _Who?_ ” she’d hissed, smiling falsely at the guests as she dragged him to a quieter area, long nails digging into his skin.

“ _Him_ ,” James said, pointing again.

The moment his mother’s eyes did settle on the man she immediately slapped his arm down, spinning him roughly to face her as she crouched down, a hungry expression on her face. “ _What did he say to you? What did you hear?_ ” she demanded, not seeming to care now if anyone saw how she was practically shaking her small son. 

“ _Nothing_ ,” James squirmed, “ _he just wanted to talk about the party._ ”

His mother let out a sound of frustration, of disgust with his performance. “ _Useless_ ,” she spat, folding her arms and glaring down at him. “ _For future reference, that_ man _, is one of the most powerful bosses in this city._ ”

“ _Bosses?_ ”

She didn’t bother offering any further explanation, and shoved him back towards the crowds. “ _What are you still doing here? Get back out there!_ ” And without another look, she had turned back to her guests and continued with her little routine.

James had rubbed at his eyes. He was tired. He didn’t want to be around these people anymore. He just wanted to go and hide in his room and watch TV until he fell asleep. But he went back out into the crowds anyway - he was too well trained to do anything else. Those words though… that conversation with that stranger, that was what consumed his mind for the rest of that night, leaving him unfocused and dazed. 

Yeah… even now James thought about that night a lot, more than he’d care to admit. He didn’t think he’d ever come to term with the ideas that man had first put into his head; that all humans were bad, that it was part of their nature and some were just more inclined to do bad things than others.

Sometimes James felt evil - when he was yelling and tearing into a kid who had pushed him just that bit too far but certainly didn’t warrant the ferocious retaliation James would offer. He knew that his anger had been built up over a long time, whipped and scalded into shape by years of hatred and resentment he had towards those who’d hurt him - the beast that was finally released into the world by that one traumatizing event.

Then he’d feel annoyed and frustrated. He’d been living in care for five years, surrounded by nothing but love and care, and yet was still unable to reign in that anger no matter how much his mind would be screaming at his body to stop.

In his sessions with Nicki, he had expressed this concern to her, and she’d been surprisingly blunt. She’d told him that it was more than natural for him to have anger in him, more so than other kids his age. That he was having to deal with stuff that even the most level-headed adult would struggle with.

“ _But you have improved, James, you have. Maybe it might be harder for you to see while you’re still in the midst of this journey, but you have_ ,” she’d gently insist, in that reassuring way she always had about her. “ _I bet if I were to put you in a room with yourself four years ago you’d be shocked. The fact that you even ask me these questions is good, a far difference from the little boy I first met who saw everything in black and white._ ”

James would sigh, only half agreeing with her. That was hard to believe at times when he’d been placed with several foster families and been sent back each time due to that very behavior. Although, he hadn’t been placed in one for a long time now, not since Adam had joined them - he figured he was a no hope on that front now. “ _This grey’s very confusing though_ ,” he would say, hearing with his own ears how weary and jaded that statement sounded. Emotions he kept hidden the majority of the time at the home around the other kids were allowed to roam free when he was with Nicki.

“ _It is. But that’s life_ ,” she’d reply. “ _And as you get older you may find new situations may push your buttons, and you’ll have to learn to deal with them as they come._ ”

“ _It’s not fair_ ,” he’d whine, hugging his arms across his chest, burning holes into his feet as he softly kicked at the coffee table in front of him. 

“ _I know_ ,” Nicki had said, eyes kind and understanding, a look he had never once seen in the eyes of his parents. “ _I know how tough it is for you, I’ve seen it, but you’re a good kid, James. And you’ve got all your friends and family to support you._ ”

He’d smile then, feeling lighter of heart and spirit, as he always would whenever he had the sessions with Nicki. “ _And you_ ,” he’d say honestly.

“ _And me_ ,” she’d agree, and his grin would widen.

He didn’t care if Nicki was a psychotherapist and was being paid to help him deal with his problems. She was his friend first and foremost - knew him better than anyone other than perhaps Burnie. She’d seen him at his very worst and always assured him that with hard work he could be his very best, no matter how much he struggled to believe that himself. 

He knew one day his big secret would have to come into the open, at least for those he was closest to. He’d wanted to tell Adam for some time now but every time he got close, he’d convince himself otherwise or got frightened of what might happen after. He didn’t want Adam so see him any differently, but either way, he needed to be honest soon, it was killing him, no matter how much it would hurt to tell his foster brother it hurt even more keeping the secret, feeling like he could never be truly open with him.

 

––––

 

That Christmas James woke up early. He was an early riser in general but even he was a bit shocked when his eyes blinked open and he rolled over to see the time of five thirty shining back at him. He kicked his feet slightly under the covers, and beamed when he felt the weight on top of him and the familiar rustles of wrapped presents. 

Sitting up he could just about make out the form of his stocking at the bottom of his bed. It always did amaze him how they all got put there without him waking up. Every year he was determined to stay awake to catch them in the action, but every year he would eventually fall asleep and wake up to the change of scenery.

He ignored the presents for now, knowing it would be more fun to open it with the others later, and threw back his covers, padding quickly over to Adam’s bed.

With a small laugh, he launched himself onto the mattress space beside the sleeping boy, speaking not so quietly. “Merry Christmas, Kovic!”

There was silence. James couldn’t even see a glimpse of the younger boy because he was buried under the duvet, a still mound.

James poked at it. Once, then twice.

The mound grumbled. “It’s too _early_.”

“But our stockings are full! Santa’s been!” James exclaimed jokingly. He knew Santa wasn’t really real - he was pretty sure none of the kids apart from Jeremy believed in the jolly old man, not just because they were too old but because, for a lot of them, he’d never visited before, but it was still fun to kid himself into playing along for the holidays.

Duvet-Adam still seemed unconvinced to play along however, the presents on his bed not tempting enough to drag him out of slumber just yet.

James observed the duvet lump for a moment, just to check there truly were no signs of life, and then left it be. It was Christmas, he’d allow Adam his lie in for once, if only for a moment. 

Gently opening their door, the rest of the house was quiet, the almost unnatural silence that could only occur at the crack of dawn. He padded downstairs, covering his eyes as he walked past the doorway where the huge tree and all the main presents were. He wanted to keep that a surprise for later. Instead, he headed to the kitchen, grabbed a juice carton from the fridge and returned upstairs, intent on waking Adam up soon after his luxurious extra five minutes in.

However another opportunely presented itself as he reached the top - an opportunity in the form of a small, still sleepy, but clearly excited five year old - just emerging from his own room, rubbing at his eyes which were immediately sparkling when he caught sight of the older boy.

“James! It’s Christmas!” he whispered excitedly, jumping lightly up and down on the spot, shaking the stuffed toy in his hand - was it Rimmy or Tim? James could never remember. 

James grinned back, just as excited. “I know!” he said, scampering forward and kneeling down in front of the youngest, giving the brown curls a fond ruffle in form of greeting. “Hey, Jeremy,” he began, mischievous. “Wanna have a little competition to see who can wake up the most people?”

The little boy’s mouth fell open in an exaggerated expression only kids that age tended to have. “Yeah!” he agreed not so quietly.

“Okay, you take this floor, I’ll take upstairs,” James decided, partly because he wanted to be the one to wake up Ryan at this hour and partly to avoid Adam’s wrath. “Ready, set, go!” he rushed out in one breath, dashing towards the stairs while giving Jeremy a shove in the other direction.

He could hear Jeremy yelling at Adam to wake up before he’d even reached the top and was unable to stop his burst of laughter, imagining very clearly what the younger boy’s face looked like at that moment. Something like a cross between a kitten that'd just fallen into the water and an old, annoyed dog.

Rather than taking Jeremy’s very direct approach, he opted for a more tactile method. First, he ran along the hallways, knocking on each bedroom door rapidly as he passed, just to make sure they were all at least half awake. Then he ran back and forth once more, this time chorusing Jingle Bells along the way - might as well let them know this was a Christmas thing and nothing urgent.

Then, for the final step, he went into the bathroom, grabbed a plastic cup, filled it with water, and barged into Geoff’s bedroom next door.

“Merry Christmas, Geoff! Wake up! It’s time to celebrate!” He called, dipping his fingers into the water and sprinkling Christmas joy onto the half awake, dazed teen, as if he were some kind of festive priest.

“Ahh!” Geoff squirmed as the cool water hit his face, but he was already laughing. Until he glanced at the clock and fixed James with a “ _really?”_ glare.

James just beamed back. “It’s Christmas, Geoff!”

“Boy, you are gonna be in so much trouble.”

James raised his arms open wide, inviting it. “Worth it!” he exclaimed, causing Geoff to laugh again as the older teen stretched and slowly got out of bed. James was already scampering off - there was much more work to be done.

He’d decided to go for Ryan next, which ultimately turned out to be a tremendous idea, as having the newly turned sixteen year old chasing him about afterwards actually made an even more effective wake-up call than the water.

James cackled as he ran past the open doors and saw the figures of other kids and carers alike, standing there unimpressed. With his part done, he narrowly slipped out of Ryan’s grasp and charged downstairs to see how Jeremy had fared.

Very well it seemed, the lower level was also filled with tired looking kids standing in the hallway with a very pleased looking Jeremy jumping up at them like an excited little puppy.

Adam caught his eye and James felt the wrath of God put into him. He bowed with a flourish and the younger boy practically snarled. 

“S’happenin’?” a sleepy voice mumbled, and then James felt tense as Lawrence pushed his way through the crowd.

_Oops, maybe should have warned Jeremy about him._  

“Oh uh…” James stammered, before deciding the only way from here was further down the hole. “It’s Christmas?” he said, hopefully, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry for waking you.”

Lawrence rubbed at his eyes, thankfully not seeming that annoyed, in fact decidedly less so than most of the others. “Whatever, man,” he drawled, turning around. “I’m going back to bed.” 

Bed! That sounded like a good idea. Maybe James would go back to bed…

“What on earth is going on?”

James froze at the stern voice directly behind him, belonging to the one carers room he hadn’t run into, for his own life’s sake. He spun around cautiously, attempting his best puppy-dog face. “It’s Christmas, Gus,” he quietly squeaked, gazing up at the grumpy man pleadingly. 

“He’s not wrong,” came another voice. James sighed as Burnie walked down the stairs too, standing and leaning over the banister at him. James gulped, suddenly aware how all the attention was on him. He looked up and fixed Burnie with his most practiced and effective angelic smiles. 

Burnie smiled back, too quickly. And James knew that was bad news.

He watched on hopelessly as the head carer made his way to the bottom of the stairs and placed two firm hands on his shoulders. “And seeing as James has already been so helpful in getting everyone up he can be even more helpful and he can go and take your dogs for a nice morning walk.”

Burnie looked to Gus for confirmation and the younger man nodded. “And you better make sure they’re clean before you let them back in,” he ordered.

James raised his head up high. “Gladly,” he obediently responded, ready to take his punishment like a man. Normally taking Gus’s two dogs for a walk would be fun, but their wishes had been answered that year, and there was a thick layer of snow coating the ground outside, not to mention it _was_ barely gone six and cold out there. And on top of that the dogs didn’t even live with them! He was gonna have to make the ten minute walk to Gus’s house and then probably explain to Esther exactly why he was waking her up at this hour just to take the dogs out.

_Burnie, you are a cruel man, a cruel man indeed._ James marched off in search of some old clothes, ignoring the grins the others were now sending his way, including Jeremy. _Lucky little…_

It was _very_ cold outside, and James had to catch himself more than once to prevent him from falling on his butt on the slippery sidewalks. The two dogs - Oswald and Benjamin - were extremely excited to see him, which was more than could be said for Gus’s wife, Esther, who looked like she’d never been more grateful in her life that she hadn’t had kids of her own.  

In the end, the walk consisted of James falling over four times, Oswald falling into a snowdrift and all three of them ending up stuck in some mud hidden under the snow, which meant James had to give the dogs a bath when he got back, which meant his hands basically froze off in the process, which meant he was seriously regretting his earlier actions when he eventually returned to Rooster Teeth just before nine.

When he did get back though, Gus gave him a gentle slap on the back of his head and ordered him to take a shower, and James knew all was well.

Heading downstairs sometime later, now nice and warm and decked out in his Christmas jumper - a Santa that was stuck headfirst down a chimney - he stood back for a second, taking in the sight for the first time. It was loud now, louder than usual and the smells and all the colors were sending his senses into overdrive, but in a good way. 

It was… it was… Magical.

The gift opening was done during the late morning, early afternoon, and everybody gathered into the main living room, compact with all of them despite the room’s size. Ryan had lit a roaring fire and, being the most decorated place in the whole house, the atmosphere was warm and cheery.

James hadn’t been around at the time most of the decorations had been put up - he had a sneaking suspicion that the carers had planned it that way, obviously worried his creative flair would show up everyone else’s decor skills. He had, however, added his own few select ornaments to the Christmas tree - four shiny reindeer in sunglasses and snapbacks. 

And what a tree it was that year, ridiculous to be frank. It was wonky and unsymmetrical and was so tall it scraped the ceiling and the fairy on top was constantly in a bowed pose. It truly belonged in a forest, dominating their living room the way it did. James loved it. Kind of perfect in a way for their family, he thought; impractical and messy but charming all the same. 

All the carers were there bar Barbara, who was spending it with her boyfriend’s family, and Peake, who was visiting his parents for the holiday. All in all, there were nineteen of them- seventeen humans, including Gus’ and Burnie’s wives and then Gus’ two dogs - and James had never been more grateful for the large house.

And then the real mayhem began. Presents were handed or chucked to one another, the sound of paper tearing echoed throughout the room, Christmas music played in the background, calls of “thank you’s” and “wow’s!” were passed back and forth, Trevor and Matt brought out snacks every so often for them to munch on while waiting for the main meal of the day.

James did very well for himself that year. Geoff gave him a box full of prank ideas but instructed James that he was to let him have in on the fun too. Ryan got him this weird build your own car thing that was powered by salt water, while Jack got him a giant frisbee in the shape of a pizza! Adam’s gift was a magnetic dartboard and came with the words: “you can throw stuff at that now rather than me when you’re bored”.

Yep, James felt like a very lucky young boy, and his gifts went down great too. Well of course they did, he’d spent a lot of time deliberating carefully over them. He’d got a Jeremy a little furry monkey that could repeat back what you said to him - James had tested it out a bit at the store and decided that it could get very annoying in the wrong hands, perfect for Jeremy then. And he was proven right when the little boy, delighted with the gift, only spoke through the monkey for the rest of the gift opening, like he was some kind of translator.

For Gavin, he’d got a giant space hopper with the Union Jack printed boldly all over it, and for Michael, a massive nerf missile that made a noise when you threw it. Adam’s gift was a signed Pacific Rim poster, something James hadn’t thought was that incredible and had been pretty cheap but Adam had actually hugged him like it was the best thing in the world, and the young boy felt like a hero.

At one point, Burnie grabbed his attention and directed James to look at the tree more closely. After a bit of searching, he saw what Burnie was indicating to. James picked up the letter from the branches curiously. He recognized the writing as Burnie’s and so could assume this was his present from the carers. Usually they would all buy one joint present for each kid and, seeing as they were adults and actually got paid a good wage, could afford the more extravagant gifts. Not that James was complaining or anything, the whole receiving gifts part had never been his most favorite thing, but he was intrigued by what all the staff could have put in a letter that would interest him. 

“Is it money?” he asked, looking up at Burnie while he stuck his finger into the corner, tearing it open slowly.

“I’m not gonna tell you. You have to open it to find out.”

James tore the letter open more quickly, pulling out the contents in one motion and hearing himself scream before he’d even finished reading the words. “AWESOME!” His bellowing cry of amazement and joy had Bruce and Gavin covering their ears and Ryan screaming back at him to “Shut up!”. James could hear the adults beginning to chuckle as he continued to stare wide-eyed at the paper in his hands, knowing his face was probably a picture, and then a photo a second later, as Trevor snapped the moment on his phone.

Tickets… but not just any tickets. No… no, Siree! Only the best tickets in the whole entire world! Tickets to RAW when they visited their city in three months. Four tickets! This was the best Christmas ever! James was so happy he could burst into millions of sparkly pieces.

“Who you gonna take?” Trevor asked, gripping the back of his neck and giving it a squeeze.

James shrugged, not answering, cheeks still splitting from his grin, but he glanced over at Elyse and Adam, and Trevor gave him a nod to say he approved of that choice. The young man would take them too, hopefully. James loved all the adults, even Gus, but Trevor and Peake were his dudes, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Trevor would have been the one pushing the others to actually buy the tickets for him because these would not come cheap, judging by where they’d be seated.

_I’ll literally be able to see the sweat drip from their foreheads._ James paused. Okay, even for him, that was weird.

Making sure he gave each carer a big hug, he dove back into the paper pile, performing military tactics to search and destroy (wildly open) the rest of his gifts. With every minute, the smell from the kitchen grew even more tantalizing and, due to the open plan nature of the room, he could see all the food being set aside ready, only making his mouth water further.

Near the end of their session there was wrapping paper everywhere; on the floor, on the furniture, burning in the fireplace, even stuck to the walls. All the kids and adults were happy and laughing, eagerly exploring their new toys, gadgets, and games. Joking with each other and generally getting fully involved with the Christmas spirit.

All except one.

James had seen Lawrence sitting quietly in the corner, unwrapping each gift methodically, examining it before setting it neatly beside him. He didn’t bother with them and none of the kids were certainly feeling brave enough to face the boy directly. Some of the carers had checked on him but other than that, they all knew better than to force the boy into doing anything.

James studied him, noting more than anything the smile that was absent from his face. That wasn’t right. He couldn’t be having that. Not on Christmas. James psyched himself up and snaked under the tree, finding his own gift to the boy and crawled on all fours over to him. 

“Here,” he said, holding it out to the boy. “This one’s from me.” He placed the gift in Lawrence’s slowly outstretched hand. It was only a little Star Wars Lego kit, honestly, he’d been stumped about what to get the boy so just got him something he himself liked. “Just to, y’know, to make sure you definitely got it, cause I give the most awesome gifts here so it would be a shame if that awesome talent went to waste if this got given to Oswald instead.”

Lawrence gave him a searching look, face partly in the shadows from the tree. “You’re a weird kid,” he said after a long pause, and James wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or a backhanded compliment. He decided he much preferred the latter.

“Thank you!”

Lawrence just frowned slightly, but his eyes narrowed not unkindly, the corner of his lip twitching as he tore slowly at the paper. James shuffled away, knowing it was best to give him some space rather than staring as he unwrapped the present, less pressure that way, on both of them.

Things felt better. Maybe he hadn’t got a real smile out of the boy but then again, maybe that still wasn’t possible. Either way, he’d gone over, friendly, and shown that he wasn’t scared or fed up with Lawrence’s attitude. 

He didn’t know - for some reason he liked the boy - not quite in a friendly way and certainly not as much as Geoff appeared to have taken to him. No, James didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he had, in a roundabout way, defended him against Michael’s accusations the other week and felt like that was now kind of his role; although the way he had done so still deeply shamed him. He was just grateful things were still the same between him and the younger boy. They’d been a bit tense for a day or so but then, without even really noticing, everything had slipped back to normal. James just wished they didn’t ever have to slip in the first place. It wasn’t fair on the others. 

A while later James glanced back and caught Lawrence already looking at him. The other gave him a small nod, holding up the kit. James grinned. The interaction was as good as any. 

Present unwrapping finally over, living room well and truly trashed, kids well and truly overjoyed; Burnie declared the first half of the day a success. And then it was Christmas dinner. Oh, and what a dinner it was. Two massive turkeys covered in bacon and the size of Jeremy were the main centerpiece, and then surrounding them, like side dishes coming to worship their turkey Gods, were an array of Christmassy delicacies. Stuffing, roast and mash potatoes, red cabbage, parsnips, Brussels sprouts - which James didn’t get all the fuss about, they were completely fine.

However, unlike some kids, the ones that sat at that table didn’t dive in straight away. From the oldest to the youngest, they all sat and waited patiently. “C’mon kids, dig in,” Matt tried to coax but Trevor shook his head. “Naw, don’t you remember? They’re always like this. Won’t eat a thing until we’ve filled our plates.”

“It’s only fair,” Michael spoke up. He looked around at all the others. “You all made the food so you should get first choice.”

Matt almost went to argue but Burnie cleared his throat first, smiling at all the earnest expressions. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You’re all very deserving and good-hearted kids.” He didn’t try persuading them to go against their code, for it was a kind of code, unspoken and unplanned but occurring every year all the same.

See, Christmas at Rooster Teeth was amazing, so amazing that it was a day that reminded them more than others exactly why they were here in the first place. Whether they’d never been loved or cared for like James and Gavin or neglected and left hungry like Michael and Geoff or were like Ryan or Bruce, and had lost those special ones they used to spend the holidays with - as much as Christmas was a time for all the kids to feel like everything was right in the world, it was also a time to be thankful for the adults who made it all possible.

So in the words of Geoff: “Go ahead and get your freaking food, we won’t wait forever” they showed their appreciation with the simplest of gestures.

Once the staff had taken what they wanted, though, all bets were off the table, and it was like a pack of hounds had descended on the dining room. James gulped as he somehow managed to drop four roast potatoes into his lap during the process, and instead of picking them back up left them there, trying to secretly eat them without anyone noticing. 

They all ate till their stomachs ached and their jaws hurt from all the chewing, and when the main meal was over James leaned back in his chair, agreeing with Adam that they were both going to go into food comas.

“Is there more?” Jeremy asked expectantly once they’d cleared away the plates, the only one who didn’t look like he was full.

Burnie raised his eyebrows at the youngest. “Maybe. What would you like?” he asked in return.

Jeremy tapped a finger against his lips, gazing at the ceiling as if in deep thought. “Umm… I don’t know.”

The kids all smiled at each other knowingly. _Here we go again_ , James knew they were all thinking it. It was always like this with the youngest. Everybody knew that Jeremy knew _exactly_ what he wanted, but he would never outrightly state it, and the staff would have to go round and round in circles trying to get him to say it.

“No? Can’t you think of anything?” Burnie tried, only just keeping the laughter out of his voice.

There was a lot more dramatic sighing and pondering on Jeremy’s end as the little boy glanced around, hoping his desired item might just magically appear before him. “I - I think it might begin with um… with a C.” He said eventually, giving into temptation.

“Oh…” Trevor groaned, “you want some more cabbage.”

Jeremy huffed, still all very serious and business-like. “No, that’s not it. Um… I think it’s um…” He slid off his chair, wandering back and forth like he had no idea where he was going but just so happening to make his way slowly over to the pantry door. He grabbed the edge of the door, prizing it open, on a mission. 

Burnie joined him. “Oh! What’s in there, Jeremy?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“The _thing,_ ” the youngster insisted, disappearing inside. There was some rustling and Burnie had to step in too to make sure nothing was broken or smashed. “This thing!” They all heard the excited little voice exclaim.

“Oh! Where did this come from?” Burnie reappeared, grinning, holding a giant chocolate Christmas tree in his arms.

“I saw Trevor putting it there yesterday and I’ve been waiting for it all day!” Jeremy stated proudly, forgetting that he was supposed to have been ignorant of the whole thing. 

The other kids meanwhile, had somehow forgotten how full they were - in fact, James suddenly realized he was definitely not full at all, his mouth watering at the sight. By the end of the second course, James felt like he’d eaten his own weight three times over, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

The kids drew straws to see who would help clean up, and having been lucky on that front, James returned to the living room with some of the others to examine their new stuff some more.

At one point he spotted Adam leaning over the back of an armchair, head and arms flopped over the edge, watching Gus play a game on his laptop. James joined him, flopping over on the other side, so they had the carer surrounded on both sides. 

“You’re not supposed to drink at work,” Adam said, looking at the glass in Gus’ hand.

“I am today. Santa said so.”

Coming here was a mistake, James decided, as the grumpy man and the young boy with the spirit of a grumpy man began to argue about what exactly Santa had given permission Gus to do. 

James stood back up, looking around, looking for someone in particular. He frowned, not spotting them right away, but settled when he found them sitting outside on the terrace. He debated whether he should join them, maybe they wanted a private moment to themselves; but there was stuff he wanted to say, and he might not get a chance to catch them alone later. 

The glass door was stiff as he slid it to one side, water freezing into ice making it catch along the bottom. It didn’t allow for a very quiet or graceful appearance and by the time James had finished struggling with it Elyse had turned to watch him, amused.

“Hey.” He nodded in greeting and she smiled back, shyly.

“Hi.”

“Mind if I join you?” 

Elyse shook her head, eyes large as James approached. 

“Thanks again for my present. It’s awesome.” James thanked her as he sat down. The younger girl had gifted him with a little Goku figurine, handmade out of clay but obviously painstakingly worked on to get all the little details right. James might have said he was surprised that she knew about his love for Dragonball after such a short time, but then again, he also knew he could talk nonstop about the show for an hour, and had more than likely subjected Elyse to one of those speeches. 

Elyse’s cheeks crimsoned. “It’s nothing,” she brushed off, quick to avert any praise or positive attention she received, like she always did, as if people telling her how great she was physically pained her.James thought it was kind of sweet. "It’s way worse than what the others gave you,” Elyse hastily added, like she was justified in her feelings. 

“No way! I mean true - the wrestling tickets were, like, a dream come true - I got some pretty sweets gifts but… yours was the only one that was handmade.” He shivered. The snow had been shoveled off the terrace but the wooden planks were still damp, and cold seeped through the fabric of his jeans. Elyse didn’t seem to mind though, so James saw no reason to suggest they move elsewhere. 

“Nobody likes handmade gifts,” Elyse went on again, correcting his own opinion as if she were doing him a favor. 

“Nobody likes crap handmade gifts, which yours wasn’t. It was really cool and it’s gonna stay in pride of place on my shelf in between Shadow and Sonic.” He nudged her shoulder with his own, playfully. “And besides, you haven’t had enough time to earn a lot of extra money being a slave for Gus.” He pulled a silly face at her. “Oh be sure to hide away if it snows more, he’s gonna have us out here shoveling away before the sun rises.” 

She laughed. Pretty, like a bird’s song. Maybe? James had read that once in a book and he thought it sounded nice. Anyway, Elyse’s laugh was _nice_ , always made him feel warm. Geoff teased that James’ own laugh sounded like what they tortured people in hell with, which James had thought sounded pretty cool.

“Thank you for my gift too,” Elyse said quietly, while James was in the middle of working out what other sounds they might play people in hell - like squeaky whiteboard pens or the sound of Gus snoring.

“Oh uh… sure,” he replied, his turn to act all bashful. It had been a bracelet, one of them charm ones he’d seen some of the girls in his class wearing. It only had one charm at the moment - a rooster. He thought that’d be quite fitting. “I wasn’t too sure if you liked that sort of thing,” he added.

Elyse laughed again, nudging him back. “You’re more thoughtful than people give you credit for, y’know?”

_Thoughtful_ … huh, that wasn’t a word people had used to describe him very often. Wasn’t really a title he deserved when he was always more of a do first think later kinda kid… 

James breathed in sharply, suddenly. “Y’know what Burnie calls this place?” he asked, with a solemness in his voice.

“No?” 

James paused, glancing across searchingly. “It’s the thinking place. He says he knows one of us is thinking about something hard when we come out here and sit on our own.” His eyes scanned her expression, hard to tell what she was thinking at the moment. “You’re different, you know that? You’re not like any other kid here,” he said before he could stop himself. 

Her expression turned surprised then, he could read that well enough, cheeks crimsoning again. James smiled, small and full of yearning. It felt like it was now or never to get this off his chest. He might not be strong enough to tell the truth about that one night yet, but he could at least say this. “Like, you do this weird thing to me. You can make me feel calm or safe even when I’m in one of my… y’know… I just - I’ve never met someone who can calm me down like you can, so quickly, and make me feel like I’m not the worst person in the world.” He looked at her, feeling self-conscious. “That’s not too weird, is it?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “No, I’m uh – I’m glad I can help. You don’t deserve to feel like that.”

There was silence until James began to feel maybe that _had_ been too weird of a thing to say. But then…

“You remind me of someone.” Elyse was staring ahead. James knew that look, seen it on the others many a time. On Elyse however… now this was a first. “You remind me of my brother,” she continued. “He was always so… happy. At least he _was_.” A darkness clouded her eyes, again another first since James had known her. “Think that’s what put social services onto us, when he started acting out at school the teachers knew something was really wrong with my family.”

She turned to him and James was taken aback by the sheer look of distress in those green eyes. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that she didn’t have to say anything that might upset her, but he knew that wouldn’t be right. Nicki had taught him that - no matter how unhelpful or useless he might feel - if someone had something bad they wanted to get off their chest, the least he could do was be a friendly ear.

Elyse took a moment, seeming to have waited in case James did want to stop her. When he didn’t, she carried on, cautiously. “My parents were very religious and they brought us up to be like that too. They um… they hated anyone who wasn’t perfect in their eyes, and by that I mean if you weren’t white skinned or didn’t get married before having kids or even had a weird interest in music. They told us those sorts of people had been corrupted, that their minds were consumed with evil. My brother, Kyle,” her voice broke, and she rubbed nervously at her knees. “He was the oldest and he couldn’t have been anything further from them. Sometimes it’s scary to think that me and my brothers and sisters could’ve turned out like my parents if he weren’t there, teaching us how things really were. That people weren’t _evil_ just cause they were different from what my parents liked.” 

James made sure to keep his own face unreadable, even as that word crept up. The one word that resonated with him so deeply. _And maybe not just with me…_

“My brother was one of those people who was… different.” She blinked a couple of times, lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. “I think for a while he was able to hide it, or maybe my parents didn’t want to believe it. But when he turned twelve, they started trying to… fix him.” Her voice broke again but she made no bother to hide it, mouth pursed in angry remembrance. “And once they started on him they moved onto my other older brother and sisters, trying to fix things they didn’t like about them, and I… I just watched as they turned from happy kids into these… these _shadows_.”  

James watched her wrestle with herself, looking like she was on the verge of screaming to the skies, but like a magic trick, with a couple of deep breaths, she was back to normal. James would have been envious if he wasn’t still caught up in the tale Elyse had just told him - and as far as he knew, to him only.

“I guess I’m just lucky I was one of the younger ones,” Elyse finished sadly, “they hadn’t moved onto me yet.” 

“Now they never will.” 

Elyse met his gaze, and nodded once in agreement. “Now they never will.”

“Elyse,” he reached over, covering her wrist with his hand. “I - I know getting put into care sucks. It did, even for me and I’d –” He hesitated, wishing he could open up his heart as she’d just done for him, but he wasn’t that strong. No, he was nowhere near as strong as this girl. “Well, I was the _only_ _kid_ my parents could mess around with,” he said instead, keeping it vague, hinting at what was already common knowledge.

He glanced back through the glass doors, at the happy, smiling faces of his foster siblings, could see Adam and Gus still arguing, hearing the laughter and music echo outside. “But this place… this place is good, gets better every day, I know you might not believe that right now, but it does,” he said, believing every word. It was his truth after all. “After a while, it might even seem like home.” 

“That’d be nice.” James turned back to Elyse, caught her staring, and her eyes seemed too piercing suddenly. James felt like his heart was been squeezed too tight in his chest. 

“I’m sorry about whatever happened to put you in care, but I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad I got to meet you. I’m glad you’re my friend,” he managed, feeling like every word was a struggle, but a struggle he wanted to make all the same. “Bit selfish, huh?” he asked, wryly.

She smirked, shy again. “A little.”

He laughed, emitting a brief cloud of vapor into the gap between their faces. “Anyway, you seemed to have coped better than anyone, although I know kids here especially can get good at hiding stuff, so if you ever wanna talk, I can talk, you know I’m good at that - or listen, I’m not always as good at that but I’ve been practicing.”

It took Elyse a second to react. For a moment, there was surprise - and then she was leaning into James’ side, and when James glanced down to check on her only for his breath to catch in his throat at the tears he saw threatening to spill, he realised that maybe Elyse wasn’t the perfect porcelain angel he’d first thought. Somehow that eased him. Maybe he’d been dumb to assume anything different. Kids here? They were all broken in some way. 

_Some are just better at hiding than others._

“Elyse,” he spoke quietly. “I know your first Christmas here might feel weird, but it should be special too,” he continued, moving his hand from her wrist to place it on top of hers, squeezing the smaller fingers tightly, like they were the one true thing currently keeping him bonded to reality. And he couldn’t help but grin at the light blush that came to her cheeks from the action. “You’ve made it special for me, anyway. So just for one day, let’s try and forget everything bad and pretend we’ve always been this happy. Pretend that now always _was_ , and always _will be_.”

He tilted his head down to rest on top of hers, feeling her lean further into him, and whispered into the chilly afternoon air. “Merry Christmas, Elyse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this chapter took two weeks rather than one, but then again, it is double the length, so I guess it kinda works out! Thank you to everybody who's still reading!


	13. Chapter 13

_“I’m not sure what it makes me.” - Jeremy_

 

The morning air brushed lazily against Gavin’s forehead as he stood in the doorway. A cool breeze that raised the hairs on his arms and had him huddling as much as he could into the thin t-shirt he was wearing. Their home was great in that way - old though it may be - it always stayed cool during the summer and warm during the winter, hence why Gavin was unprepared for the temperature change when he opened the door for the mailman.

For most people, he would have been hesitant about the simple task of opening the door. Shyness, bordering on panicky, was a trait he carried whenever a stranger came calling. But this was Ricky, and Gavin had seen the small, balding, rosy-cheeked man almost every day since he’d arrived at Rooster Teeth, so he could make an exception. Besides, getting the mail was a chance to take a nose at everyone's deliveries.

“Got some more Amazon pantry stuff here."

“Oh yeah, those’ll be Ryan’s.” Gavin said, shoving the box into the hall behind him.

“Something for the Mr. Bruce Greene.” He handed another box to the boy. Gavin shook it a little but heard nothing. It was heavy, though - perhaps some school stuff. Bruce spoke about school a lot nowadays, loved it more than any of them.

“And one for you, young man.”

“Huh?” Gavin looked up in surprise as a second smaller package was placed on top of the other one. “For me?”

The man chuckled. “Got your name on it, hasn’t it?”

Gavin glanced down. Indeed it did. Flowing writing, over a slightly faded white label. The package itself did not look like the normal online shopping type delivery - rather, hand wrapped in brown paper, old-fashioned. He was quite stumped.

Perhaps it was a late Christmas gift? Christmas had been three days ago, and this was the first mail they’d received since.

After chatting with Ricky about his Christmas for a few minutes, he wished him a good day and gladly shut the door, shutting out the chilled air and allowing his body to soak up the heat left from last night’s fire.

He left Ryan and Bruce’s packages on the floor, and placed the normal mail onto the nearby cupboard, before heading upstairs with his own mystery item.

Jeremy was coming out of his room as he reached the top. Crawling to be precise. With two small plastic guns in both hands, making all the necessary _bang, pow, bang_ sounds.

He discarded them on the carpet the moment he spotted Gavin, though, and leaped up, bounding eagerly over.

Jeremy was still dressed in a stormtrooper onesie that Jack had given him for Christmas, and had refused to take off ever since, as well as carting around that damn little monkey that had been James’ gift. Gavin was surprised that thing hadn’t mysteriously “disappeared” yet.

He made a beeline straight for Gavin’s parcel.

“Who’s it from? Who’s it from? Who’s it from?” he demanded, trying to grab for it, tiny fingers reaching up to tug on the corner. Gavin just lifted the package higher, ignoring the pout the youngest was sending his way.

“I dunno,” he replied, spinning it around in the air above him, looking to see if he’d missed any little detail on the outside. All he could see, was a minuscule drawing on the bottom, in the corner. Or perhaps it was just an accidental squiggle…? No - it just looked like a doodle, like something Gavin would draw on the back of his school books.

But for some reason, it suddenly put Gavin off the unexpected package entirely.

“Are you gonna open it then?” Jeremy asked into the monkey, who as always repeated the phrase back at Gavin, sounding a bit impatient, even though it was nothing to do with him.

“Nope… well um, maybe,” Gavin muttered, striding past him into his room.

Jeremy, of course, followed. He’d lowered the monkey from his face, Gavin noticed. Left dangling by his side and hanging by one arm. And it was an indication that the little boy recognized at least some sign of distress the unknown package had caused him - forgoing his antic for a time.

He still didn’t really understand though, because - and Gavin knew it to be true - he was _being an absolute idiot_ all over again.

He’d resorted to his old trick of getting all nervous when something unexpected happened, which at one point, would have been perfectly understandable, but _heck_ , that was for another life, in another home, with another family. And something changing or coming up out of the blue back then, could have been very bad news for him. Not _now_ , not _here_. Here he was completely safe, and for God’s sake it was only a package! It wasn’t like his mother suddenly changing her clothing style again, meaning she’d be extra jumpy or erratic that day; or his dad dragging him out of bed in the middle of the night, practically throwing him in the car and speeding off to a new destination with no proper explanation.

No. It was just an innocent, brown paper wrapped, slightly heavy, package.

And yet Gavin still felt nervous. 

All he knew was that his stomach had  _dropped_  when he saw it, that little marking, and he had no idea why. _Have I seen it before… ?_ Surely not. And what if he had, it looked like a whole load of nothing - four circles with a smaller black circle inside them, kind of like four eyes looking down.

The more he looked at it the more nervous he grew, as well as angry. _Why am I so dumb? It’s not even anything!_

Jeremy made a popping sound with his mouth, standing by quietly pondering Gavin’s answer, regarding the older boy’s face with quizzical brown eyes. “It’s just a big letter, Gavvy. And if there’s snakes in there I’ll catch them for you, you don’t need to worry ‘bout it.”

It was a kick in the teeth. _I bloody know that!_

Gavin fought back a groan of despair as Jeremy continued to be his shadow. The boy was clearly just going to follow him around with big eyes, and Gavin was definitely not in the mood for it. Probably best to head up to the attic where the youngest wasn’t allowed - at that moment, he didn’t care if it would hurt Jeremy’s feelings, he just didn’t want to deal with innocent pestering. Not with his head in this state.

“Yeah, and what would you know about it?” he spat out, barging past the small boy. The way his arm knocked into Jeremy’s was unintentional, but at least it sent a message. And he might feel awful for the look that came onto Jeremy’s face, but he felt too tense and agitated to dwell on it now, and Jeremy - left in stunned silence - didn’t call out or follow him.

 

––––

 

It was almost midday by the time Ryan finally arose from sleep and stiffly got out of bed. He’d been up late last night, again, not because of insomnia but because of the late night Pub G session he, Jack, Geoff and Bruce had been involved in. Jack had been in the firm mindset of “ _c’mon_ , _just one more game, guys_ ”, and the others went along with the youngest teen, following suit until they were all practically passed out.

He was grateful for his room, probably the quietest location in the home bar the attic, glad he hadn’t been forced to share with anyone yet, although if the social services continued to pressure Rooster Teeth to take on more kids, that could all change very soon.

He headed to the bathroom, towel, and clothes draped over his arm. The one on his floor was already in use, however, and Ryan only assumed Geoff was in there, the only other kid probably up late enough to be having a shower at this hour - he had no doubt Bruce and Jack wouldn’t be rising until late afternoon.

He glared at the door. Bastard got lucky in living in the home for so long - he was the only one other than Burnie to grab himself an ensuite.

Nevermind, the second-floor bathroom should be free. It was smaller and often more cluttered with kids bath toys, but it saved wasting any more of the day waiting for Geoff to finish off his “shower thoughts”.

Jeremy was in the middle of the hall when he went down. Him being there wasn’t that unusual, the little boy often tended to roam from the specified play room’s into other areas of the house, because basically the whole house was the playroom in Jeremy’s mind.

But rather than having numerous toys scattered about, or some sort of dangerous looking contraption of household object laid out, the youngster was sat cross-legged, leaning against the wall. Ryan had seen the five-year-old act like that before, unless he was sulking after being told off.

“What’s up pipsqueak?” he asked.

Jeremy looked up from the floor as he approached, brown eyes large. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I think I made Gavvy angry?” he said, the confusion blatant in his tone. “I think Gavvy might not like me very much at the moment.”

“What makes you think that?” Ryan said, leaning on the wall next to Jeremy, looking down kindly.

Jeremy ‘hmm’ed thoughtfully. “Um… I was talking to him and I - he had a box letter and I said if he was going to open it, and then he got upset, but he didn’t have to open it if he didn’t want to, I was just saying cause I like it when people open letters and I get to see cause I- it’s not fair - I don’t get letters unless it’s from the dentist, but they’re all the _boring_ letters.” His little face lowered into a frown. “That’s all,” he said after a moment.

“Sounds to me like the little man had something else on his mind,” Ryan said. “And he didn’t realize you thought he was mad at you. I wouldn’t worry about it, Jer.”

Jeremy perked up, but it didn’t last long. “I dunno, he sounded kinda mad.”

“Well, if you still think he’s mad at you later you can come and get me or Geoff and we’ll help you sort it out, okay?” Ryan assured him. He knew Gavin - even if he was for some reason annoyed at Jeremy, it certainly wouldn’t be as bad as the five-year-old thought it was, and Gavin could never hold a grudge anyway. Either way, Ryan liked seeing an upset Jeremy even less than a loud, grumpy or hyper one. It just wasn’t right, seeing the five-year-old down.

Jeremy gazed up at him, as if inspecting to check Ryan was sure of himself. Apparently, he trusted what he saw, because he was bringing that dreaded monkey up to his mouth again. “Okay!” Jeremy spoke into the monkey’s stomach, holding it up to Ryan.

“Okay!” the monkey repeated the same word back at Ryan, except in a more annoying altered, higher pitched voice.

Ryan gazed blankly into the monkey’s large, animated plastic eyes, and wondered how long it would take for him to find and kill the creator of that monstrosity. “James really does have no sense of self-preservation.”

“What’s that mean?” Jeremy asked, getting to his feet and tugging at Ryan’s wrist repeatedly, a habit of his whenever he wanted a question answering.

“It means I’m mad at him,” he stated flatly, reaching down to ruffle the soft brown locks.

Jeremy nodded, opening his mouth - but the words stuck in his throat, as if realizing he still had no idea what Ryan was talking about. “Oh… why?” he asked instead.

Ryan smirked. “Cause he knew _exactly_ what Christmas present get you.”

Jeremy’s face lit up then, suddenly finding happiness when the word Christmas was mentioned. “Have you played with my present yet?”

“Yeah, I have, it was very, very bouncy.”

“I knew it would be! I tried it out in the shop with Trevor until it hit some lady in the butt and she got mad at him.”

“Wow,” Ryan said, after pausing to take that all in. “I’ll have to ask Trevor about that later.”

Jeremy grinned. “It was funny - the lady made an ‘oooph’ sound and then Trevor’s face went red like he’d poured ketchup all over himself. But I just hid behind some other toys and laughed.”

“Of course you did.” Ryan said, fondly.

He pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the bathroom. Jeremy padded along after him and Ryan just hoped the little boy wasn’t in one of his moods where he wanted to sit in the bathroom while someone was showering just because he “hadn’t finished asking them all his brain questions” as he would so eloquently put it.

However when Ryan reached the door, and looked to check he wouldn’t be slamming it in Jeremy’s face, he found the boy had already stopped a couple of paces away. They were both very, very quiet for a moment. Ryan could practically see the cogs turning in Jeremy’s head.

“You were a lot happier this Christmas than last year,” the young boy said finally. “So you’re more happy now.” Ryan tilted his head. Jeremy was telling him rather than asking him.

“Last year was still very… new for me,” he said carefully, discarding his clothes in the bathroom and heading the few paces back to crouch down next to Jeremy. “And the Christmas before that was the worst. You remember I arrived here just after that Christmas?”

“Mmm,” Jeremy scratched the back of his head, “not really.” He looked slightly annoyed at the fact.

“No, course not, you were still real young,” Ryan corrected himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this interaction. He didn’t know if there anything _to_ make of it - Jeremy was at that age where his thought process didn’t quite match up with his elders yet, skipping around, making random changes in direction, with perhaps no clear idea on the final destination.

“I ‘member Bruce pushing me down the stairs,” Jeremy said, and Ryan nodded, biting back a laugh. “Burnie always lies and says it was only a few but I ‘member it was millions!”

‘ _Millions’_ might be a slight overestimate, no matter how big the house was, but Ryan couldn’t deny, for a three-year-old it might as well have been.

“I don’t think he pushed you…” he pointed out. “I think _you_ just fell and he was near you and didn’t catch you in time. And he felt real bad after…” He trailed off as Jeremy sighed, and wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck.

“I ‘member Geoff stole my shoes,” Jeremy continued, bumping his small forehead against Ryan’s larger one.

Ryan nodded, smiling this time as he stood up, holding the tiny boy in his arms. “I remember you leaving your shoes under his bed and him finding them a week later. What would he have wanted with you shoes anyway? He can’t wear them.”

“For um… for - it could be used…”

“Mm?” Ryan encouraged, nudging their heads together again.

A tiny smile appeared on the boy’s lips, a knowing one. If there was one thing Jeremy liked, it was having the older kids go along with whatever tale he was spinning. “In a ritual,” he decided proudly, after much internal debate.

“A ritual?”

“Yes.”

“What kinda ritual we talking here?”

Without missing a beat: “A Satanic one.”

Ryan blinked. “Fair enough.” _Someone’s been playing Minecraft again._

Jeremy nodded, but he still looked thoughtful, and Ryan noted there was something possessive in the way his hand curled tightly into the back of Ryan’s shirt.

“But I don’t ‘member any Christmases before here,” he spoke suddenly, almost accidentally. “It’s not _fair_ , Ryan. Everybody else ‘members stuff before they got here but I don’t ‘member nothing! And then… then everybody gets really sad or happy or angry because they was ‘membering that other life but I don’t know what that’s like and it makes me… it makes me um…” Brown eyes gazed up, lower lip jutting out slightly. “I’m not sure what it makes me.” He paused, and Ryan felt the small body sigh in his arms. “Do you think I’ll ever get to ‘member?”

Ryan froze at the question. Getting put into care sucked, sure - but he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if it was all you had ever known, to have never experienced what a family, be it good or bad, was really like. Especially when you were five years old and couldn’t fully understand exactly why all your friends at school had mommies and daddies and you didn’t, even though as far as you could see, you were exactly the same as them. Loved the same, laughed the same. Hurt the same.

Jeremy had only been three years old when he was put into care. When Ryan had arrived at Rooster Teeth, the little boy had already been there about half a year, and he remembered thinking that was quite unusual - that surely a boy of that age would be snapped up quickly by a young family. Get ‘em while they’re young, there’ll be less problems that way, that was usually how it went.

At the time, he had thought that Jeremy would be out of the home before Ryan had even got to know him because, apart from the extreme hyper-ness most young boys tended to have, Jeremy would be a perfect kid for adoption. No behavioral issues, no learning difficulties, and still at the age where he could merge into a new family fairly easily.

And yet, for reasons beyond Rooster Teeth’s control, Jeremy had simply been overlooked. True, there were probably many equally young and sweet kids in state homes that deserved a proper family; didn’t mean they had to overlook the five-year-old. And sure, Rooster Teeth was probably one of the best homes for children that needed to go into care; that also didn’t mean they _should_ _have_ to stay there the rest of their lives.

Ryan had accepted long before he’d even arrived, that there was no chance in hell that he’d be leaving before he turned eighteen, and he’d made peace with that. Shit, before his life had gone to the dogs, he’d been as happy as any kid his age should be. And he would keep those memories, forever.

He just hoped Jeremy would get a chance to make memories like his one day, even though the older he grew the less likely it became. And it was _wrong_ , it was so very _wrong._ But Ryan couldn’t tell the boy that now, not when he was staring up at Ryan with the biggest puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re young Jeremy,” Ryan said after a second, quietly. “And you’re very cute. And one day some real nice family will probably want to adopt or foster you.”

It wasn’t something he was certain of, but God he hoped it was true.

Jeremy’s gaze dropped. “They already did but they brought me back,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” Ryan quickly tilted the boy’s chin to look back up at him. “That wasn’t anyone’s fault though. Nothing to do with you. That’s just the way it goes sometimes.”

Jeremy was talking about the family he had gone to live with about a year ago, but that had quickly broken down due to jealousy from the biological son of the adoptees - despite the two youngsters getting along like a house on fire before Jeremy actually moved in. The parents had given it a good try, but they couldn’t force it to work. At the end of the day they were choosing between their real son and an adopted one. So Jeremy had moved back in after a month or so.

It had taken a lot out of the youngster at the time.

Jeremy had never been told the real reason he was sent back, and he hadn’t asked. But they suspected that the boy knew, somewhere, deep down.

Jeremy’s fingers curled into his shirt again. “Ryan –”

He was cut short by the shouts that echoed down the stairs. No… not shouts, cries. Shouts were commonplace, they couldn’t go half an hour without someone shouting at another, be it in annoyance or joy. For example, Gus liked to shout at them when they all hid instead of helping him tidy up.

But these cries were not ones they heard regularly. And they weren’t stopping.

Ryan recognized shouts like that all too well.

Anger. Pain. Fear.

He could hear the rushed sounds of footsteps, thuds on the floor above them.

“What’s that?” Jeremy asked, a quiver in his voice.

“I dunno…” Ryan’s muscles tightened as he heard a familiar voice crying out for Trevor. _Gavin?_ He wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard his little man make so much noise. “Uh-uh, you stay with me,” he rushed out, as Jeremy attempted to leap from his arms.

“But what if he’s hurt!” Any worry about the older boy being mad at him were forgotten. Jeremy just wanted to see his brother.

Ryan shook his head wordlessly.

“Already a lot of people there, we could just get in the way.” Even if he wanted to go… He couldn’t get his feet to move. All the worst scenarios flashed through his head. This was what it was like, sensing the ones you loved were hurt and you’d been unable to help them.

This was what it was like, to realize you’d been too late… unable to make a difference.

Ryan was frozen in the hallway, but he wasn’t there anymore. He was back. Back to that night. And it wasn’t Gavin’s screams in his head. It was his own. And he’d never felt more terrified. And he’d never felt more alone. And… And…

“ _Ryan!_ ” Jeremy squirmed impatiently in his arms, trying to get free, beginning to dig his nails in.

“Ryan!”

Ryan blinked, and let out a short, sharp breath.

_Move, you idiot._

“Alright, alright, I’m moving.”

_Hurry up!_

“I’m going, I’m going.”

He used Jeremy as an anchor - feeling the little boy’s presence, keeping him drawn to reality. To the present day.

When he reached the top floor, the earlier shouts had turned into sobs. They weren’t the only ones up here - there’s quite a crowd. 

And through the crowd, came the reason for all the commotion, and Ryan’s throat felt oddly tight as he took the boy in.

“Michael?” he whispered under his breath, finally letting Jeremy down to run forward. “Jesus Christ.” He fell against the wall into a sort of daze, the little voice returning once more.

_And there was nothing you could do about it._

 

–––

 

_Twenty minutes earlier…_

The attic was not a place in the house Michael tended to frequent, with its dusty corners and dark, cramped spaces, boxes stacked high on top of each other. There was only one real reason he ever had to come up here, which was not a reason he found himself often using.

Michael didn’t like to overthink things, as a rule; he always said he saw no point on dwelling on things just for the sake of it. There was too much fun to be had and life to be lived without all these thoughts getting in the way.

But recently all the stuff with Gavin, mainly, some of the other kids but Gavin mainly, had had him _thinking_ a lot more. About his past, about his mom, about his dad, about himself.

Strange, he’d never really noticed it before, but perhaps it was as he grew older - he would be nine this year after all, that was almost a _teenager -_ he began to realise that all the kids still walked in the shadow of their parents, or whoever had raised them, in some way.

“ _Don’t turn out like me, Michael. Promise me you won’t turn out like me._ ”

Those were the words. The last words his dad had spoken to him, and it had been strange. It had been real strange. Not only because Michael was used to his dad being drunk most of the time, but because the man just didn’t talk like _that_.

Michael had never really worried about it - he always did what he wanted to, wanted to be his “own man” just like Geoff. Geoff was he only one who hadn’t been taken away from his family, or had something bad happen to them. No - he was the one who’d left. It was Geoff who’d taken care of himself on the streets. And it had been Geoff who found Rooster Teeth all those years ago and decided to make it his home.

He supposed it was inevitable, to carry over baggage from previous lives. But…

Well.

The others were deeply affected by their parents. But Michael was afraid he _was_ his parents. That he’d become exactly who his dad feared he’d be. It all started when you were young, right? And there had been telltale signs for a while.

The main being: School.

Because shit, he _tried_ , in school he tried to be well behaved and a good student like the other kids, but he increasingly just couldn’t find interest in any of the lessons. And now the teachers were calling in Burnie to have a chat about what to do, and shit, this wasn’t the first time. 

For ages, Michael had not taken the warnings seriously. What could they do? Kick him out of school for a bit? It wasn’t like he was that bad. He was just, as his teacher often put it, “consistently disruptive in minor ways”.

But Michael knew he’d messed up when his latest grades came in before Christmas. The bottom of his class - by a considerable amount. And he’d never felt more stupid and useless. Not liking how he behaved but feeling like that it was simply who he was as a person.

And people like that didn’t tend to have their friends and allies stick around. Michael knew that very well. People like that, you didn’t your waste time on them, even if they were only young like Michael.

People had given up on his dad when he was young too.

Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder - How long before they gave up on him?

_Promise you won’t turn out like me… but how do I know how to do that?_

He looked at his reflection in the window.

His dad stared back at him. Funny, the only time Michael could fully remember his father’s face was when he saw his own. Funny.

He hurriedly looked away as heard someone else climbing up.

Gavin was trying to be quiet but Michael noticed, of course, and plastered a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Gavin replied, his tone dull. “Didn’t think anybody would be up here.”

“Yeah.” Michael shifted, swinging his legs off the seat. “But I’m allowed up here sometimes, right? This isn’t just yours and Ryan’s hideout. I live here too, you know.”

“ _Alright_ Michael, I didn’t even say anything, Michael,” Gavin complained, even though it had been evident by his expression. He was holding what looked like a small box, although he’d hidden it behind his back the moment he’d caught sight of Michael -

His expression… _Somethings’s up._ Michael’s brother and best friend senses were tingling as he caught the look on the younger boy’s face. _Something’s bothering him… recently, I think._

Before he got the chance to think any more or even speak to Gavin, there was the sound of more feet heading up the ladder.

As the door lifted they could see it was Lawrence, and Gavin hastily scurried away to a far corner on the opposite side. What the older boy wanted, Michael had no idea. He stood up to face him, standing his ground.

“What do you want?”

“Was looking for you,” Lawrence replied, peering over at the two as he climbed up, the door clicking shut behind him. Gavin nervously stepped back, blending further into the shadows. “What you doing up here?”

“Why do you care? We can come up here if we want to,” Michael said, and then because he couldn’t help himself, “We come up here to get away from people like you. What do you want me for anyway?”

In response, Lawrence smirked, taking a few lazy paces forward, tapping his fist and palm together a couple of times. Michael eyed him suspiciously. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with him, if ever, and he’d never been with him in such small company.

“Saw you fightin’ with James and them lot the other day,” Lawrence said, dropping his voice a little. Gavin had practically disappeared into the dark corner, out of sight. “Y’know for a kid who talks a big game… you’re pretty shit at fightin’. Perro que ladra no muerde, as they say.”

“God, speak fucking English - I don’t care what you think. We weren’t proper fighting anyway, it was just wrestling.” Michael glared, all patience gone, and Lawrence nodded, proceeding to turn his head and nod into the corner where Gavin was hiding, letting the younger boy see that he knew _exactly_ where he was. Michael’s anger simmered. _Whatever you’re playing at, leave Gav out of it._ He sent what he hoped was his own smile of reassurance to the corner, although he couldn’t tell if his brother was even looking at him.

“I don’t think nobody’s as good a fighter as you are, Lawrence,” the younger boy whispered from the shadows, and Michael pulled a face.

Despite the fact that he and Gavin were two of the closest in the home - even though he’d known the others for longer, God how _long_ had he been in care now? When had he stopped counting the days go by that he wasn’t like a normal kid, had accepted this as the new normal? As someone who considered Gavin as his closest friend and ally - _looked out_ for him, never let anyone mess with him - despite all that, it did frustrate him, or perhaps sadden was a better word, when the younger boy rolled into submission so easily. Michael couldn’t blame him, a childhood of being forced into sick experiments ingrained that in you. The boy’s more peaceful nights and growing confidence were legit enough, but they only lasted as long as he felt completely, one hundred percent safe in his environment.

He dismissed his immediate fears, though. Lawrence had no reason to try and hurt Gavin - the younger boy kept out of his way on purpose.

Although he’d made no attempt to acknowledge the younger boy’s hastened attempt at flattery - which spoke volumes, really.

At that moment, Lawrence took another step towards Michael.

“You wanna know how to fight like a man?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Michael glanced at Gavin again before marching past the slightly taller boy, who swayed a little, steadied, and then struck out a lightning fast arm to grab at Michael’s wrist and halt him from leaving.

Michaels’ jaw clenched. “I’m not in the mood, Lawrence,” he said, carefully.

Lawrence’s grip on his arm tightened and he looked at his own hand for a long moment. Then said, in a very odd voice, “Really?”

He released Michael’s arm and backed off, coming to a stop by the window seat Michael had been at. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. You still hate me, right?"

“Would that make you angry?” Michael asked, looking at Gavin again, who shook his head nervously - fine, if Gavin wanted to stay out if it, that was fine, but Michael had had enough already. “I mean, yeah, I don’t like you. I’ve got no reason to. You’re an asshole.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Gavin spoke up. “He’s just being silly, Lawrence.”

“Oh, so you speak for him now?” Lawrence shot back. He was intimidating Gavin deliberately, it seemed, like he’d come up here just looking for a fight, never having learned to keep the peace. He looked back to Michael, who was glaring fire at him. “Think little Michael here knows what he wants.”

Michael clenched his fists, striding towards the older boy. _I’m not afraid of you._ “You think you’re a good fighter, but - I think there’s a big difference between a fighter and bully.”

Lawrence snorted. “You’ve never seen me fight.”

“I’ve seen you when –”

“You’ve seen me get manhandled by three grown adults,” Lawrence interrupted. “But you ain’t never seen me in a proper fight… something where it’s one-on-one, proper and fair. When it’s just two people dealing with whatever issues they have in the simplest way possible. Like, you want to fight me, you’ve been wanting to go at me since I got here, cause that’s who you are. That’s what your parents or Uncle or cousin or whoever the fuck raised you before you got here - that’s what you learned from then, and you can’t shake it. And now I’m offering you a chance, and you’re what? You’re scared or something?”

Michael and Gavin glanced at one another, and Michael saw how frightened he looked, and Michael couldn’t help giving a slow, reluctant shake of his head.

“I’m not gonna fight you, Lawrence,” he said. He caught a glimpse of surprise in the green eyes, and that was almost satisfying enough… Almost. “But I can _fucking_ teach you _a lesson_.”

Sending the boy flying to the floor was almost too easy for him, but that didn’t mean it was any less satisfying as his body hit the floorboards with a resounding _thud_. Act quickly - Michael knew that was important when you first started a fight. Don’t give the opposition time to think or react. Get the upper hand. Michael had seen his dad fight, seen his older brother fight, been in his own fair share.

He launched forward, pressing all his weight on the boy’s chest, and pressing his forearm across his neck. “Pinned you.”

Gavin had emerged from his corner, and Michael could hear him whimpering under his breath, stressed by any sort of fighting, even more so with Michael involved.

Lawrence, on the other hand, was quiet. He wasn’t even struggling.

There was a strange expression on his face.

“Oh, have you?” he whispered, meeting Michael’s eyes and pulling back the corner of his mouth into a half grin.

Michael hesitated, and then went to stand up slowly. Accept…

“Hey –”

He couldn’t move.

He couldn't move, because while he’d had one arm firmly across Lawrence’s _throat,_ his other arm had been left by his side.

And it was with that arm, or that _hand_ precisely, that Lawrence had latched onto. His fingers were twisted amongst Michael’s own, unnoticeable before, but now, when Michael tried to move, the slightest pressure sent a searing pain through his fingers and down his arm.

Michael looked at the older boy, who was still smirking. “What are you– ”

“This is how you do a proper hold, it’s illegal in most sports, but it works.” He squeezed his fingers again, only slightly, but it had Michael clenching his eyes shut and biting his tongue.

“Alright, I get it, I get it,” he rushed out, not even embarrassed by the obvious plea in his tone, he just wanted it to stop.

But Lawrence didn’t stop. If anything, he squeezed Michael’s fingers tighter - and, great - now there were tears springing from his eyes.

“Lawrence!” Gavin cried out, breaking through his terror to try and stop the scene before him.

He was rooted to the spot however, and even though the pain was incredible, Michael didn’t want Gavin to try and stop Lawrence himself. _Just in case. Just in case he turns on you and then I’d never forgive myself._

“Lawrence, let him go! Get off him!”

As Gavin’s cries increased and Lawrence squeezed tighter, Michael’s vision began to swim. It was like his every single joint in his hand was screaming.

He’d lost concept of his surroundings - only a vague sense that Gavin had run off. All he could focus on was that pain - that truly devastating pain, like nothing he’d ever felt. Worse than the time James had accidentally caught him in the face with a golf club. Worse than the time he’d stupidly applied chilli sauce to his face as war paint. Worse than any time his dad had taken out his anger and sorrows on him.

Through that pain, there came a voice. Harsh and unforgiving.

“Now do you believe I could’a killed my dad, _culero_?”

“Get off!” he pleaded, strained and desperate. “Please…”

But it didn’t work. The pain didn’t stop, it just got worse and worse and worse, and Michael couldn’t think straight anymore, and he couldn’t see from all the tears, and his pleas and turned to pure cries. And then… then he felt a _crack._ Two in quick succession.

_Snap, snap._

And then and only then did the first pain stop, but only for another to take over, and he found himself rolling to the side, clutching at his wrist, hearing in the background Gavin’s cries and shouts for Trevor and Burnie. For anyone to help.

And then, so quiet that later on he would wonder if he imagined it…

“I’m sorry.”

 

––––

 

The day was one Burnie never wanted a repeat of. Michael had cried all the way to the hospital when Burnie drove him there, but had quickly calmed down once they arrived and were surrounded by strangers, more fascinated by the strange assortment of injuries that greeted them in ER than the pain in his fingers - while Burnie tried his best not to look at the way they had bent out of shape. His eyes were still red and his cheeks far too pale, but he was more relaxed, and had leaned happily into Burnie’s side while they waited to be seen by the nurse.

By the time Michael had been seen to - given pain meds, had his X-rays and fingers popped back into place, and then a splint applied - the day was nearly over. There was a restless quiet in the house when they returned home. Gus was out of town for a few days with his wife and so Burnie had left Trevor in temporary charge.

As Burnie had expected of the young man - Trevor had everything under control and was ready with a full update on the kids for Burnie and meal of Michael’s favorite. Apparently, Gavin had hidden in his room for a good few hours, crying and shaking. Geoff had sat with him the whole time until the young boy had eventually crawled into his lap and fallen asleep. Geoff had taken him to his room since, and Trevor suspected that’s where he’d stay. Asking Burnie if he thought they should let Gavin know Michael was home, they decided against it. Best to let both boys rest for the rest of the night.

As for the others, Trevor said they had been good as gold. They’d all taken themselves to their own rooms after dinner and had been quiet ever since. The last time he’d seen Lawrence, the boy had been in his own room. He hadn’t come down for dinner and Trevor hadn’t gone to find him. “ _If I’m being honest, I was kinda waiting for you. Jeez, I don’t even know where to begin,_ ” he’d admitted.

Burnie had assured him it was okay. But fuck - he didn’t exactly have any idea himself. Never, in the history of him being here, had anything like this happened before. Kids fought, sure, occasionally they’d rough each other up a little. But never had one of them… _attacked_ another like this.

Lawrence was still sat in his room when Burnie went to seek him out. The lights were off and he was on his bed - back to the wall and knees up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. He looked small, withdrawn. Not like a kid who looked capable of attacking another child in the way he had.

“I’ve already spoken to Michael. But I want to hear your side of things too,” were the first words Burnie spoke to him. Not in depth yet, but a bit while they waited for Michael’s X-ray, just so Burnie could try and piece together something from the mess.

Michael had spoken honestly as far as Burnie could tell. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve - the truth ringing out in his words without him even trying. “ _He asked me if I wanted to fight. I told him no, but I was lying._ _I pushed him first. He didn’t do anything until I pinned him. But then he got hold of me and wouldn’t let go. Even when I asked him to and it really hurt… he didn’t let go.”_

It had made sense, although Burnie was surprised to learn Michael had been the one to attack first. What had surprised him even more, though, were the other words Michael had muttered, almost under his breath. _“Don’t know if he could let go.”_ They were strange words but Burnie hadn’t called him out on it at the time. Now he perhaps wished he had, as he sat on the opposite end of the bad, facing a boy who was harder to read than a stone wall. And near impossible to talk to.

Lawrence, who didn’t even acknowledge Burnie for a few minutes, eventually raised his head. Burnie hadn’t bothered switching the lights on, so his face was only illuminated by the light from the hall, casting a dim glow across half of his face.

“I don’t remember,” he said. “It’s real dark up in that attic y’know, kinda hard to see. Might be a giant spider came outta the woodwork and attacked him without him seeing. You never know with these old houses.”

Burnie didn’t reply. Just observed him quietly until the boy turned away. He was reminded of one of the numerous conversations he’d had with Lawrence’s social worker before taking him in. “ _I’m warning you that boy is more trouble than he’s worth_.” Was a line that had given Burnie an immediate disliking of her. “ _He’s a liar. Would make ridiculous accusations all the time. Make up stories just for the thrill of it._ ”

Was that what he was doing now? Just playing along and waiting out the drama he had caused just because he enjoyed it?

Burnie didn’t think so. But he also didn’t know _why_.

“Did you mean to hurt him?” he asked.

A sigh.

“Did you want to stop?”

Lawrence glanced up at him, defiance in his eyes for a second.

In the end, though, he simply shrugged. “He okay?” he asked, and Burnie blinked in surprise, not expecting the question.

“You broke his index and middle finger. Doctors say they’ll take about a month to heal. Turns out Michael’s very happy about that, seeing as he won’t have to do any writing at school,” Burnie told him, unable to help the hint of amusement leaking into his tone as he recalled the genuine look of pure delight on the boy’s face when the nurse had informed him of the fact.

_“That means they can’t get mad at me if I don’t write my work no more!” Glad to know someone had their priorities sorted._

The boy jerked his head in what could almost pass for a nod, intently staring ahead, avoiding all eye contact as was the habit he fell into. He didn’t seem _bothered_ necessarily, or shook up by what had happened and what he’d done, but Burnie had come to recognize three versions of the eleven-year-old. Angry, which was obviously the easiest to spot, nonchalant, which was the front he put on the majority of the time, and this one - tense. 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” he asked. Burnie paused, honestly he hadn’t begun to think about that yet, not when he’d had another hurt child in his care, and Lawrence peered at him thoughtfully for a few moments when he realized Burnie didn’t have an immediate answer.

“You’ll have a meeting with your social worker…” Burnie paused at the sound of disgust the boy made, not finding any reason to particularly disagree with him on that front. “ _And_ we’ll move on from there. In the meantime I need you to make a serious apology to Michael and this incident will obviously go on your record - on his too. And whatever happens, I’m warning you, like Riya and Luke have warned you,” he added, bringing up the names of the two police officers, who were by now _more_ than well acquainted with the eleven-year-old. “You only get so many chances Lawrence. Everybody’s been more than accommodating to you but the behavior you’ve been displaying is, at the end of the day, criminal - no matter how young you are. Underage drinking? Truancy? Running away? Seriously hurting another child, whether you meant to or not? Those are all just stepping stones to juvie.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lawrence spat out suddenly. He peered at Burnie again, as if expecting him to say something else. “That all you gonna do then?” he asked when Burnie remained quiet.

“What do you mean?” Burnie said. He studied the boy, who was fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, twisting them around his fingers. “Lawrence, what do you mean?” he asked again.

The boy froze in his action, blinked and looked away, raising his upper lip in a silent snarl. "You don't want me here. Why don’t you just get rid of me now?” It was meant to be aggressive, Burnie guessed, meant to taunt Burnie into getting angry.

But all Burnie could hear was how genuinely confused Lawrence sounded. _Why don’t you just get rid of me now?_ It was so matter-of-fact, a simple question of why someone would want to keep him around.

What had happened to make the small boy’s self-esteem so low? Non-existent.

“That isn't true, and I think you know that."

"Course it's true. Nobody wants me. I don't want them to. I don't care if you send me away and I don't come back. I don't care.”

“I… do you even know why you hurt him, Lawrence?” Burnie tried.

“I got angry,” came the blunt reply. “I gotta tendency to do that, case you hadn’t noticed.”

The boy stretched out, eventually uncurling from his original position, and once again peered at Burnie with that slight challenge. His eyes sported dark bags, he looked tired. Heck, Burnie was tired, restless after half a day spent in a hospital. Exhaustion was pulling at his mind, but he would stay here the whole night if he had to. He wasn’t leaving until things felt better than awful.

Lawrence’s angry tugs on his hoodie strings gave him pause for thought.

“Perhaps it would be good for you then… if you went and saw someone like –”

“You send me to some shrink and I will make this place a living hell for the rest of my days here,” Lawrence interrupted, ferociously, preempting the suggestion. “That’s a promise I make to you, Burnie. You sayin’ you don’t want me to go to juvie, you send me to some mind fucker I’ll pack up my bags and move right out, and then we can all move on with our lives.”

His anger deflated as quickly as it had come. He gave a small smile. “So, what d’you say?”

Burnie felt backed into a corner by the persistent questioning. It was like Lawrence was trying all avenues to get him to admit that he didn’t want him here. The idea that he was actually being kept at the home for no other reason than Burnie did not want him to go didn’t even seem to cross his mind.

_We need someone, better than me. Someone who can really get to know what’s going on in this kid’s head._ Nicki would be perfect, Burnie had no doubt - the woman worked wonders with James. The difference was that James wanted the help, whereas Burnie had the horrible feeling that sending Lawrence there - at least anytime soon - would certainly wash away any ounce of trust he might harbor for him.

Then again, it might not be up to him, whether he stayed or went. But, Burnie thought, if it came down to it, he would fight for Lawrence to stay.

Honestly, after everything this kid had fucking put him through in such a short amount of time, Burnie didn’t want him to go - didn’t want to send him away. He had never done so in the past, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like starting now. He would only be failing them both that way. Nevertheless, if Lawrence did stay, things were going to have to change, and soon.

“I _can’t_ have you doing anything like this again, Lawrence.” It came out tired and jaded, but held weight all the same. “Disobedience, I can tolerate for a time, but when it comes to the other kids here… that’s an absolute no-go zone.” _No one was allowed to hurt his kids. Including his other kids._ “I need your assurance that something like this will _never_ , _ever_ , happen again. Can you promise me that?”

Lawrence turned his head away, and gave a half ass attempt at a nod.

“I need to hear you say it,” Burnie instructed.

The boy looked at him again in some silent communication Burnie wasn’t fluent in. But after a moment,

“I promise.”

“That’s good. I’m very glad to hear that,” Burnie said, and then to change the subject because the air in the room felt so heavy it might crush him: “Teacher was thinking that maybe you might need glasses for reading in class…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Lawrence shrugged, unfazed by the sudden topic switch. “Yeah, I do.”

“So you knew you needed glasses but you didn’t say anything?”

“Yep,” the boy paused, pondering. “Got told when I was living with my…” His eyes narrowed in concentration. “Sixth family of assholes?” he guessed.

“Why?” Burnie asked, raising an eyebrow, and Lawrence grinned mockingly.

“Why were they assholes?” He grinned even wider at the look Burnie gave him, and then pulled a dismissive face. “What’d it matter? What’s the point in seeing good if you can’t read nothin’?”

“Well, you’re gonna need them to learn.”

Lawrence considered this. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But I’m gonna choose them. The family that got me a pair only let me get the cheapest ones and they broke straight away, so the dude glued them together but left his fucking fingerprint on them, might as - he might as well have stuck a great big fucking target on my back, hey other kids, this is the one you should pick on, this is the kid who’s not like the rest of you assholes.”

Burnie bit back a smile. “Duly noted, there will be no gluey fingerprints on your new glasses. And either me or Trevor will bring your dinner up here later. I heard you missed out earlier.”

As he stood up from the bed he noticed a brief flash of _some emotion_ flashing across the boy’s face. But as quickly as it had come, it left, leaving Burnie wondering if he had imagined it.

“Cool,” Lawrence said then, with another grin. “Thanks, Burnie.”

Burnie halted. It was the first time he’d heard that word come out of Lawrence’s mouth and it just staggered him for a second.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, and Lawrence gave a jaunty salute before lying down on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut the door on your way out,” he responded cheekily. Burnie huffed out a breath, and rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. _Yeah, that was more like it._

Today had been one of his most challenging ones so far, in his whole history working at the home. But what could you do? There was no use wallowing in it. You picked yourself up and moved on. And prayed that you’d find ways to make the next day better.

_And fuck me if it’s any worse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perro que ladra no muerde = His bark is worse than his bite.
> 
> Lot of different pov's in this chapter but I felt it was needed. Thinking of a Trevor centered chapter up next. And thank you as always for reading! Still blows my mind that people actually do. <3


	14. Chapter 14

_“Truly a modern miracle.” - Barbara_

 

“Go! Go! Go!”

Geoff pushed his legs harder, feeling the burn in his calves and the unpleasant taste of saliva forming in the back of his mouth.

“Come on!”

His heart pounded. And his lungs were ready to burst. But he was close. He was oh _so close_. Just a little bit further, a little bit more. He was almost there…

_Faster, faster, faster -_

“Wooo!”

_God damn it._

Instead of coming to a graceful stop, Geoff continued sprinting. He’d built up too much momentum - his legs carried on moving, even though it was all over. A tree became his crash pad, as he hurtled towards it, thrusting out an arm around the rough, gnarled bark.

Now eventually still, his feet wasted no time sinking heavily into the fresh snow, disappearing until it was up to his shins. It was still freezing outside but he might as well have been in the Mediterranean at that moment, the way his shirt was sticking to him with sweat. Who’d have thought? Running in the snow was _fucking hard_.

“Aww, Geoff, you got beaten by Bruce,” came a mocking little voice.

Geoff aimed his best glare at the taunting ten-year-old. It had no effect. Adam was too busy dancing around Bruce - him and Elyse, looking like two little gnomes, their cheeks rosy, heads covered in brightly colored bobble hats.

The eldest took a moment to regain his breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply, before straightening up and pretending to be unbothered by the results of their little impromptu race. 

“Yeah, well he looks like a stick, and his hair is neater, more aerodynamic,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and attempting to lean back in a nonchalant manner against the tree.

Unfortunately, he missed.

_Shit!_ He quickly scrambled at the tree trunk to prevent himself from falling butt-first into the snow drift. Luckily for him, the other three were still enraptured with Bruce’s celebrations to notice his pitiful attempts to regain his balance.

“Bruce isn’t like a stick,” Adam was still cheering, tugging on the skinny teen’s arm. “Bruce has got muscles!”

“Yeah, yeah, show off your muscles, Bruce!” Elyse chorused, trying to jump along with Adam onto Bruce’s back.

Bruce was taking the playfulness with a good nature, as he always did, but Geoff didn’t miss the slight wince that crossed the younger teen’s face every time one of the little ones attempted to climb him. And Bruce being Bruce wasn’t likely to say anything anytime soon, so pushing his grumblings about losing aside, Geoff stepped back into big brother mode.

“Alright, alright leave him be,” he said, marching over through the snow. “You two aren’t that little, y’know.” He grabbed them by the back of their necks and pulled them towards him, allowing Bruce room to breathe.

Elyse and Adam were both extra hyper that day, the results of being cooped up inside for so long, and Geoff could only be grateful James wasn’t with them as well because those three together… he shuddered at the thought. Those three were like the three musketeers recently, a dangerous concoction of creativeness and mischievousness. Geoff was also pretty sure James had been teaching the younger two the delicate art of the “puppy face”, which only made them that more deadly.

Fortunately, he could just about trust himself to keep control of Elyse and Adam. _Just_. And that was why he’d offered to watch over them while Burnie did more important adult stuff in the city. The two both had contact with their families that day - the first in a while due to the Christmas celebrations.

Normally, Geoff would have believed Burnie totally comfortable with taking the two with him but, well, let’s say recent events were starting to drain the man. Geoff didn’t blame him one bit. A job like his… _shit_ , he couldn’t imagine anything more stressful. He might have no idea what he wanted to do with his life yet, but one thing he knew for sure. _There is no chance in hell I am ever going to work with kids._ _I’m already a big brother for ten, I don’t need any more, thank you very much._

So anyway, Geoff and Bruce were going into town - or rather, Geoff was going and was dragging Bruce with him - and he’d offered to watch over the youngsters while Burnie did his thing. They were good as gold, really. Better than Geoff had been at their age.

He’d released his grip on them but they’d done as they’d been told and refrained from jumping on Bruce, resorting to jumping up and down beside him. “Geoff’s just jealous cause he’s not stronger than _all_ of us,” Adam was continuing to taunt, his eyes wide and bright as he looked up at Geoff, expectant.

Oh, well that was a challenge if he’s ever heard one.

“Oh really? I’m not as strong as you?” Geoff grinned menacingly, crunching slowly forward through the snow.

Adam watched him get closer, excitement spread across his face. He shook his head with a big smile. “No.”

That was it. With a battle cry, Geoff launched forward, grabbing the ten-year-old and hoisting him into his arms, making sure he had his legs and arms tightly secured.

“You’re right, this is really hard. I’m going to have to put you down soon, I’m sooo weak,” he acted out a stagger, jostling the boy in his arms. “Oh no! A strong gust of wind is blowing me over to the lake!”

Adam wriggled in his hold, one escaping arm reaching out to Elyse and Bruce. “Save me!” he cried out through his laughter. Elyse scampered after them and grabbed onto him, trying to pull Adam back. Bruce just followed behind, a small knowing smirk on his face.

For his part, Geoff carried on with his Oscar-worthy performance, standing by the edge of the water and swaying some more for effect. “Oh no, my poor, little, weak baby arms can’t hold you much longer.”

Even if he was serious and did drop the kid, the most harm it would do was make him wet and grumpy. The lake had frozen over solid a few weeks ago but it was mostly thawed out by now, only a thin layer at the very edge. A host of ducks had settled in the center, and Geoff hoped he wouldn’t have a repeat of two years ago. Those stupid little motherfuckers, gone and sat too long on the ice, hadn’t they? Sat so long that they’d frozen themselves stuck. And so, of course, he’d had no choice but to go out and rescue them. That mission had taken a whole day and he’d been paying back Jack for two weeks after dragging the boy into helping him.

There was no way he could have left them though. Not the ducks.

Ducks and chickens. As sad as it may sound, there was a time when ducks and chickens had pretty much been his only friends.

Growing up in rural Alabama, getting “homeschooled” by their creepy neighbor, having no kids his own age around, he hadn’t exactly been spoilt for choice.

Burnie had picked up on it quickly, because of course he had - noticing that a reliable way to get a young Geoff out of one of his funks was to take him down to the closest park to go and feed the ducks. It’d been Geoff, Burnie, and then a load of parents with their toddler aged children. Geoff hadn’t cared - he just remembered being in awe of the fact that, for the first time in his life, there was someone who wanted to do something _for him_.

Anyway, presently Adam seemed pretty certain that ducks or no ducks, he did not want to be dunked in icy cold water.

“No, Geoff! No, no!” the boy continued to beg, although he was running out of breath from already laughing and shouting so much.

Geoff still didn’t have what he wanted, though. _Kid’s gonna have to learn somehow._

“I’m sorry, Adam. I just can’t carry on,” he wailed, like it was his last dying breath, beginning to buckle his knees.

“Yes you can, Geoff! You’re strong! You’re really strong!”

Geoff bit back grin. _Now I’ve got him where I want him._

He continued to lower the boy closer to the ice, maintaining his pained expression. “I don’t think I am…” he said, voice hoarse.

“You are! You are!” Adam was now positively clinging onto him, laughing in his face.

“Yeah, you are, Geoff!” Elyse joined in, still desperately trying to bring her friend back to safety. “You’re the strongest person ever in the whole of the universe.”

“Ever? So that includes Brucie?”

Adam nodded furiously. “Yeah! You’re way stronger than him. Than everyone in the whole universe!”

“Well then…”

With one swift motion, he easily swung the ten-year-old around, back onto firm ground, a not unjustified feeling of pride in his chest. The two immediately screamed and ran off together in case they were attacked again, but Geoff had already done his fair share of physical exertion that day and let them be.

When he glanced back, Bruce was stood with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes rolled as Geoff met his gaze but the smirk was still there, obviously both uncaring and unsurprised at Geoff’s little routine to make sure he was still top dog.

Geoff smirked back, corner of his mouth tilting up cockily, an expression that read “well, what did you expect?”.

The moment was cut short by Elyse and Adam running up to him again, latching onto an arm each.

“Geoff! Geoff! Can we go on those hamster ball thingies, please?” They were eagerly pointing at what had caught their eye, a way down near the closed park cafe.

Although the majority of the lake was still covered in ice, the guys who ran the floating orb activity thing had managed to smash a small area near their little pier, obviously hoping to cash in early with all the other main attractions still closed.

Geoff had been on one of those when he was younger. Had seen Michael throw up in one too, a scene that made it into his top three of most disgusting things he’d ever seen in his life.

He smiled apologetically at them. “Nah, it’s too expensive, guys. And anyway, you’ll be having fun with your brothers and sisters later.”

That elicited two very different reactions. Elyse let out a small sigh but she smiled ruefully, content with Geoff’s judgment. Adam, however, did not.

“No, I won’t,” he muttered, mood flipping in an instant, so quick he reminded Geoff for a second of James.

“No?” Geoff peered down at the boy, who stood defiantly, head lowered and brown hair peeking out of his hat and flopping over his eyes. “Why won’t you, Adam?”

The boy fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket for a moment, mouth pursed tight while he struggled with his thoughts.

“Cause it’s not the same,” he admitted. “He don’t feel like my brother as much anymore. Don’t think he’d even mind if he missed out on seeing me. He’s more happy being with his new family than being with me - and he don’t even really like seeing mom anymore.”

Ah, it was what he suspected. Only the other day he’d been talking to Trevor about how Adam had been mentioning more and more recently that he wished he could live closer to his little brother.

It was something Geoff could understand, but not quite relate to. Sure, he’d been through bad shit back in his day; knew what it was like to be hurt and uncared for, still carried the damned scars to prove it. And yet… and yet, he’d never known what it was like to fear for others. Never had to think about protecting others before protecting himself. Every choice he’d made back then, they had all been made for him. Geoff, himself, he had been his number one priority - no fucks given to anyone or their mother.

How much pressure, he wondered, had it been on the young boy? Deciding to put his mother and brother first when he was still so young. It had certainly affected him in a way that made him, at times, a very serious boy - warm and giving to his friends, but extremely cautious around new people.

Learned how two-faced people could be when he was young. Too young.

“He’ll remember what you did for him,” he assured Adam as best he could. “How you protected him, looked after him. Maybe he doesn’t quite know how to express that gratitude right now, but when- _as_ he gets older, he’ll let you know just how awesome his big brother is. Nothing’s gonna change that, Adam, you’ll always be his big brother.”

Adam shrank in on himself then, all the pent-up frustration leaving him in one wistful sigh. “I wish he lived with us,” he whispered, the pure longing in his voice upsetting to hear. 

“And I bet he’d love it if you lived with him,” Geoff said, reaching out a gentle hand to fix the bobble hat that had slipped down on one side. “But you’re with each other in the only way you can be, right now.”

The brown eyes shut for a moment, and a tiny frown appeared on Adam’s forehead. “Am I complaining too much?” he asked.

Geoff’s lips twitched. Another thing with Adam was that he worried more than most about how he came across to others. On one hand, the kid always spoke his mind and did what he thought was right, on the other, he second-guessed himself often, always hyper-aware of his actions and what people might think of them. Both he and Jack had problems with that.

“No. No, you’re not,” he assured Adam again. “Don’t you ever think of it like that.”

Adam’s eyes gazed up at him - old eyes - Geoff had seen many a pair of eyes like those in his day.

“Anyway, Adam, you said you’d see if you can introduce me to your brother, so you have to go so we can team up against you and annoy you.”

Geoff turned to grin at Elyse. She really was a little ray of sunshine - always so positive and friendly to the other kids. At that moment she had come up to Adam, wrapping her smaller arms around his shoulders.

Adam twisted his head until he could see her and slowly smiled back, small but genuine.

“Seems like you’ve got no choice,” Geoff said to him.

The matter seemed settled for the time being. Adam seemed to be less stressed now anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d had anxiety before going to contact and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Geoff looked at him, at the two of them, him and Elyse. There was a funny, fizzing eagerness he felt in the pit of his stomach, and he knew he just couldn’t help himself.

“You get five minutes. I’m not paying for more.”

At first, the two were at a loss as he grabbed the notes out of his pocket and held them out to them. Then, in unison, their eyes wandered back to the floating orbs, to each other, and before Geoff knew it, they were squealing in excitement, snatching the money from his hands with cries of thanks and charging as fast as possible to their treat.

Geoff watched them run off, feeling both pleased, amused, and slightly annoyed at himself. Sensing Bruce’s judging look on his back didn’t do anything to help the matter. “Don’t tell me I spoil them too much,” he said, turning around.

Bruce just gave a shrug and a funny little smile. “I didn’t say –”

“Adults say that you shouldn’t give in to kids, bribe them, whatever. What do they know? How much happiness would they have experienced before living with us, huh? I just want them to feel happy as much as they can.”

Geoff was unsure why he’d burst out with that, but Bruce took it with a grain of salt. “You’re a big softie.”

“I am that too,” Geoff said, and shrugged, one side of his mouth pulling up into a crooked grin. “I’m not gonna argue with you on that one.”

Bruce nodded smiling, but other than that didn’t add any more to the conversation. He’d been quiet that day, but that wasn’t all that unusual. Boy reminded Geoff of himself in that way, could either swing one way or the other. A complete extrovert or introvert depending on the time. Jack was usually the one to bring the loudest side of him out, although anyone who played or sang the right song could get the teen hyped up.

Geoff had fond memories, of the two of them being around Elyse and Adam’s age, dancing around the kitchen - the room a good deal smaller back then - on the tables and chairs, listening to the radio until Gus eventually told them to calm down before they hurt themselves.

Why don’t we do that now? Why must adults, and teens, be expected to be so… so un-childish all the time? Where was the harm in simply _playing_?

“Talking about big softies, they didn’t hurt you did they?” he checked, remembering the look he’d seen on Bruce’s face earlier. “When they were climbing all over you.”

Bruce shook his head. “No, they weigh like half a pound each.”

Geoff chuckled. T’was true. All the little ones were kind of skinny motherfuckers, it almost seemed impossible when he thought about it, seeing as they consumed all the food that was bought for them at an alarming rate. They were growing kids, he supposed. But there was also a lot of catching up to be done. Some of the kids might be considered “tall” amongst the other kids in the home, but compared to other kids their age, they were usually on the smaller side of the spectrum. Years of neglect had left them a few steps behind in life, and not all of it was neglect.

Jeremy and Elyse, for example, they’d technically _been fed_ enough, just not the right stuff. From what they’d gathered, Jeremy’s diet had consisted mainly of cheese and crackers or McDonald’s as a treat. While Elyse had been raised on some sort of “edenic diet”, he thought it was called. Super healthy and good for the planet and all that, but not the best for little kids unless you did your research and did it right.

So, as Ryan so often called it in his very politically correct manner, they were living in Midget Mansion.

“Just thought you looked in pain at one moment…” Bruce just brushed his concern away with a shrug. He didn’t seem bothered - probably just Geoff being over paranoid again. With so much going on at the moment, he was more concerned than ever with the happiness of his younger siblings.

He started walking in the direction of Elyse and Adam, hearing from the crunching footsteps that Bruce was following. “Heard you’ve been making waves on the airwaves, well, near them anyway. How long will it be before I hear you on there?” he asked.

At that, Bruce smiled, scratching the back of his head bashfully. “I dunno… maybe not until next year.”

They chatted about school for a bit, seeing as it was something they were going to have to return to very soon. At one point Bruce brought up how the president of the club had taken a shining to him, asking Bruce to stay late or come in during lunch to help him with prepping the shows. Geoff’s face lit up at the name when he heard it - a good friend of his, they no longer saw each other as much as they liked, but still, she was a solid girl.

“Teri,” Geoff mused fondly. “That girl’s freaking funny,” he said, recalling a time the girl had put up their whole class up for sale on Craigslist, including the teacher. 

He realized he was actually laughing out loud as he caught Bruce’s eye again, the younger giving him a strange look. “Mmm,” Bruce hummed, letting Geoff’s strange giggle fit slide. “She’s been more than good to me.”

Geoff’s laughter cut out. There was something in that sentence that sounded odd. Something that Geoff couldn’t work out as he studied the boy. They’d stopped walking now - waiting by the lake’s edge for the entertainment to commence. Bruce’s gaze had dropped from his to the snowy ground, one booted foot skimming lightly across the surface in front of him, sending up tiny flurries of settled snowflakes.

Geoff felt his big brother spidey-senses tingling, and in fact, he sensed his earlier intuition had been right. There _was_ something up. But he had no clue if it was something good or bad or just plain embarrassing… the closer his little brothers got to adulthood the harder he found it to judge. All the childlike telltales blurred by the adolescent maturity. 

“Bruce is there –”

“What are you getting Jack for his birthday?”

Geoff blinked. The interruption had been so sudden he wasn’t sure if Bruce even realised he’d interrupted.

_What perfect timing…_

However, it wasn’t exactly strange, mentioning Jack’s birthday. _Shit, that was coming up soon, wasn’t it? Too many damn kids,_ Geoff once again grumbled to himself. _At this rate, I’ll be broke before I even start college!_

They switched the conversation for a while, until Adam was shouting at them to watch and two giant hamsters were being pushed out onto the lake.

The two were absolutely ecstatic, and Geoff had to admit, it was rather amusing to watch. He made sure to film it all on his phone - all the laughter, every time one of them fell with a bouncy thud, or when one of them got caught in a running cycle, little legs racing on the spot before they face-planted forward - the carers would want to see this when they got back. And he wanted to keep the memory for himself.

By the time they’d finished, they were both red-faced and out of breath.

“That was awesome!” Adam bellowed, returning to them with glee.

“You should have a go!” Elyse insisted.

Honestly he’d considered it, but both rules and practicality stood in his way. “I don’t think I’d fit,” he told them. “Anyway, we need to get going, we’re meeting Burnie in ten minutes, you don’t wanna anger papa bear, do you?”

He’d find time to investigate Bruce later. Right now, his main challenge was going to be getting the two back to Burnie on time - although, let’s face it, they were definitely going to be late, and then he was going to have to try and explain exactly _why_ they were late.

_Either way,_ Geoff thought, _I’m always the one who ends up in the shit. It’s my fucking luck for being the big brother._

 

––––

 

Barbara never considered herself someone particularly intuitive. People always said, go with your intuition, you know what’s best deep down. But honestly, she couldn’t recall a single time when she’d made a decision based on her intuition purely. Everything in her life had happened for a reason, and that reason was because she made it happen. There was no invisible thread leading her along, or some unseeing hand guiding her way.

She’d gone to college because, one, her dad would have killed her if she didn’t, two, because that’s where all her friends were going, and three, because she wanted the education. More education meant more opportunities. And for someone who didn’t have a fucking clue what they wanted to do with their life, she figured she could do with all the open doors possible.

She’d majored in creative writing but minored in media. When that was all over with she’d taken a job as an intern, managing social media for a local business. She’d been offered a job with the same company once her initial contract had ended, and she had accepted it.

She’d found herself working at Rooster Teeth because she needed a change. Don’t get her wrong, she’d loved the media side of things. It was always a fun, creative process. But one day she just stopped what she was doing, stopped and stared around her, really taking everything in.

And she envisioned herself staying there, in that same room, doing the same job until she could retire and collect her social security. And she’d asked herself a question.

Is this where she wanted to grow old?

She’d handed in her notice a week later.

Turns out she’d made a good impression during her time there.

Turns out her boss knew a guy.

Turns out that guy had been Matt, the son of a guy who’d built up a company specializing in child services. Turns out Matt had gotten a job at one of their newest care homes for some friend of his when they were basically kids themselves. Turns out that friend was Burnie. And it turns out that he’s looking for some fresh talent.

Looking back, Barbara often wonders how crazy she was at the time making the split-second decision she did.

The pay she’d been on was great, and choosing to head down a completely different career path meant starting from scratch, going through a whole new course of learning. And _God,_ that training had been grueling, working in detention centers, seeing kids so young acting like they had nothing left to live for… She respected the hell out of anyone who tried to make a difference there, but that wasn’t for her, and she was glad she got out of there when she was done.

When she’d eventually started working full time at Rooster Teeth, it felt like every step she’d made in life had all been leading up to there, and it was only now that she’d reached that destination, that she could look back and pinpoint exactly which choices she’d made had lead her to where she was.

_Her_ choices. _Her_ decisions.

Not intuition… just a well-judged gamble.

Going out those doors then… why had she done that?

It was raining, hard. It was getting dark, quickly. She was intending to go and put some of the kids' clothes in to wash. There had been absolutely no reason for her to go outside.

But she had, because…

“Treyc’s? What you still doing here?” she asked, spotting the man sitting under the wooden decking, on top of some breeze blocks that had been left there since the last building work. He was supposed to have gone home an hour or so ago. Had a trip planned from forever ago with some of his old buddies.

_What the hell?_

It was unnerving, seeing her friend and colleague sat there, barely illuminated by the outside light, barely visible through the gaps in the planks. Barbara kept her voice calm as she quickly walked down the steps to crouch down and get a better look. “It’s your night off, isn’t it? Thought you needed to pack everything.”

As if he’d only just heard her, the man jumped. “Hey! Scared me there, yeah - I mean it is…” he trailed off - and he looked around, like a man waking from sleep, and laughed lightly as if he was only now realizing the ridiculousness of his situation. “Shit,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

Then the smile on his face disintegrated, and all of a sudden it looked like he was trying his best not to cry.

“Hey,” Barbara crawled over, sitting down beside her friend. Her protectiveness was warming, and she couldn’t help the way her own eyes stung, seeing Trevor so distressed. “What’s the matter? Who do I need to knock out?”

Trevor glanced up at her, and managed a little smile.

“I uh… I just feel like I shouldn’t be taking time off at a time like this. With all the stress you guys are under and the recent stuff with the kids. Just seems wrong that I’ll be going off to have fun without any of you.”

“We all need time off now and then. And you’ve, what? Had this trip planned for how long? Six months? When was the last time you had a break? And don’t say you have weekends off, I know you’re here just as much, you just don’t sleep here.” She reached out, a hand on his shoulder. “You need to make sure you leave time for yourself too.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… I…”

“The incident with Michael and Lawrence hit you hard.” As the words left her mouth she saw his face crumble, barely holding back the tears now. “Oh, Trevor, c’mere,” she said, pulling him into a wet and soggy hug, feeling him shake underneath her.

With the way Trevor spoke and acted, Barbara often found herself forgetting just how _young_ he was. He’d worked there longer than any other of the junior carers, but out the permanent staff, he was the youngest.

He looked young now, like one of the kids; his hair flat against his forehead, raindrops dripping off his eyelashes and down his face, looking up at Barbara with those soulful brown eyes of his.

He sniffed loudly, turning away. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid.”

“Naw, you’re just making me feel bad that I don’t have as big a heart as you,” Barbara teased gently. “But seriously, Treyco, you’re the best of us, you know that. You’re unbelievable with the way you connect with the kids and the staff and any lovable idiot interns we get in.”

“I’m no Burnie.”

“And he’s no you,” she said, unsure what that had to do with anything. “Burnie might be one of the best, but you are… you’re one of a kind.”

Trevor flushed at her praise, and even more so when he met her gaze and realized she wasn’t joking. Still, he played it off as best he could.

“One of a kind?” he echoed. “No, no… I’m not one of a kind. One who’s been through it maybe, one who can - on occasion - look them in the eye and tell them, honestly, that I know what they’re going through, one who they might find it slightly easier to trust at the start when adults represent everything bad in their lives.”

He paused, expression vacant for a moment, as if reliving another time and place.

“I’m nothing special,” he said, a hollow sound. “And moments like the other day highlight how this fucking job can get to you and reminds me that, out of everyone here, it always seems like I’m the one who handles it the worst.”

“You don’t…”

“Course I do,” he said, firm but not angry. Merely acceptance. “I’m the one who’s sat under the terrace in the pouring rain.”

Barbara took a deep breath in, nose flaring as her grip on Trevor’s shoulder tightened.

“Stop it, you fucking idiot,” she said flatly, and Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “Stop beating yourself up over it. Maybe we fucked up somewhere down the road, maybe we could’ve seen it coming, maybe this was bound to happen at some point, maybe we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”

“But –”

“ _But_ we as a team, as a family, what is it that you’re always telling us to do?” she continued. “To deal with the shit as it comes. And you take shit better than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

As she finished, Trevor, head half-bowed, rain still cascading down his hair, could only turn and stare at her. There was a very awkward pause before he nodded.

“Trevor Collins: Master Shit Taker…” he said, rather uncertainly, before smiling. “Doesn’t have as great a ring to it as I hoped.”

Barbara had to hold back a snort; at least his sense of humor was still intact. “There’s the smile I love.”

Trevor snorted at that.

“You’re right. I know you’re right. You just gotta keep on keeping on. If there was anything my experience taught me as a kid, it was that,” he said, and Barbara’s eyes softened again.

“And don’t dwell on all the bad stuff,” she insisted. “There’s always a silver lining. It can be so easy to get caught up in the stuff that’s gone wrong, but there’s so much _good_ that I see here, every day. So much good. So much life.”

“I did finally get Jeremy to stop swallowing his toothpaste.”

“See? There you go!” she exclaimed. “Truly a modern miracle. You’re doing the Lord’s work.”

Trevor chuckled again, although his smile still didn’t quite reach his eyes, didn’t quite drive away the shadows still lurking there.

Barbara frowned, and the asked: “How many years have you worked here now, Trevor?”

“Uh… seven,” he replied, taken off guard by the question. “Yeah, just over seven years. Fuck.”

“And in those seven years how many times have you been the voice of reason to all the guys?”

“You tell me,” Trevor replied, and Barbara flung an arm over his shoulder.

“Every day,” she said. “Every day I’m reminded why I chose this job rather than following my dad into programming or my mom into nursing. Every day I’m reminded why I pushed through those grueling work experience days at the detention center. Every day I think I learn more and more about how to be a good carer for these kids. And _every day_ there you are, with some comment or insight that changes my perspective all over again. And it’s frustrating, that you’re that good and you don’t even know it.”

Trevor was staring at her, and Barbara released his shoulders to squeeze his hand.

“Me, Peake, Matt, Gus too,” she added, softer now. “We can hopefully be good enough to keep the engine in this place running. Help keep things running smoothly. But you and Burnie? You guys can actually make a difference. You’re the real game changers. Maybe start taking a little credit for yourself. What d’you think?”

“I think…” Trevor whispered, before letting out a shaky breath, smiling at her with an emotion that wasn’t quite sadness, wasn’t quite happiness. “I think you’ve built me up to be someone I’m not.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious, Barbara.”

“You think?” she asked.

Trevor just stared back, still looking mostly perplexed, tilting his head to the side like the kids often did when they were confused. Barbara could only smile back at him, and slung an arm over his shoulders, tugging him close. Trevor didn’t pull away, happy enough to hug her back. The tip of his nose was cold where it brushed against Barbara’s cheek, but a warm fondness swelled up in her chest as she ruffled the man’s hair before giving him a light shove. “C’mon, get your ass out of here before you make yourself sick.” 

She’d had enough of being soaked for one night, and crouch-walked out of the space, watching to make sure Trevor followed. Once they were back inside, she grabbed a towel from the kitchen, flinging it over the other’s head.

“You’re soaked,” she said, and Trevor pulled a face as he removed the towel from his face.

“You’re soaked too,” he muttered.

For once, she didn’t rise to the bait, instead murmuring: “Take care of yourself, Treyc’s. 

Trevor nodded, shyly turning away and drying himself off.

There was a more comfortable silence as they made themselves look something half human rather than two drowned rats, and when that was done, Barbara wasted no time in making sure Trevor had his priorities sorted, ordering him to make a run for his car.

“And I don’t want to see or hear from you until you get back. For a few days, I want to forget you even exist.”

The man allowed her to push him along, albeit extremely amused. “Bit harsh –”

“Nope, no, starting from now - I’ve decided you no longer exist,” she said pushing him towards the door and opening it for him. “Go on. Out, out,” she flapped her hands at him. He glanced back at her, possibly about to argue, but then she saw him give in, a grin flashing across his face as she practically bundled him outside.

She shut the door straight after him, although she cracked it slightly open again after. Just to make sure he was being a good boy and doing as he was told.

Sure enough, after a minute or so, the small car was driving off, taillights disappearing around the corner.

She sighed, happy with the way things had ended up.

She loved Trevor - loved everybody she worked with - but that guy… there was always that little special something about him. And God, she hated the times she saw him get like that, though rare.

And she’d meant every single word of what she’d said to him.

And she knew that Trevor could spend days wondering what had gone wrong and what _he_ had done wrong, and that was okay, he needed his time to process things.

And she also knew that she wasn’t like that, and maybe that was a fault of hers, but honestly, things seemed to have worked out for her so far. Because you could wonder what you did wrong all you liked, the fact was nothing was going to change unless you moved on, learning from that experience and carrying on with life.

Call it fate, intuition, God’s will, whatever. The fact was it was up to _you_ what you made of your time on this Earth. Or at least she was in a lucky enough position where she did have that freedom. With that said, she was more than happy to not ask too many questions about what’s, why’s and how’s.

What that made her, Barbara had no answer, but it didn’t concern her. Sometimes the greatest and most important things in life weren’t there to be simply broken down into understandable segments and answers.

Sometimes life was just crazy and wonderful and scary and _weird_ , and if you spent too much time worrying about everything trying to figure it all out for yourself you’d never be able to simply be and _let it be_.

Life was life. Sometimes it sucked. Sometimes it didn’t. Even a kid could understand that.

Speaking of kids…

_Stopped Jeremy from swallowing his toothpaste, huh? Well I never… Maybe he’ll even go to bed on time tonight…_

She shook her head, ridding the ridiculous thought. No. Now that was a known fact, some things in life were just never meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO! Finally updated again, haha! My excuse is that life has just got in the way for a while and writing has been the least of my priorities. I've missed it like hell though, and it feels good to finally be getting back into the swing of things.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who's stuck around!


	15. Chapter 15

_“You are the most Texas of dudes.” - Bruce_

 

Michael never thought having two broken fingers would bring him such joy.

He’d never broken a bone before, his dad had never gone _that far_ , but he’d never quite liked the sound of it. Truly, the actual act and the way it had happened had been nothing short of horrible, the wild look in Lawrence’s eyes, his own sharp, frightened breathing, the sickening way the two bones had snapped into four.

“ _I was so scared, Michael,_ ” Gavin had told him the next day, huddled up under blankets together in the living room. “ _I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to stop him._ ”

“ _Don’t worry,_ ” Michael had comforted, and found the younger boy’s hand with his own good one. “ _You did the best thing you could have. Anyway, I would’a been mad if you’d got in the middle and gotten hurt. So don’t worry about it, okay?_ ”

“ _Okay,_ ” Gavin had agreed quietly, snuggling into his side as they watched early morning cartoons.

Michael knew he had surprised everyone; the way he’d reacted to the situation couldn’t be further from the Michael they all knew. He was calm, he didn’t point fingers, he didn’t demand justice for the wrong-doing like the young superhero he enjoyed pretending to be. “ _I’ll let you guys sort it out cause you’re all adults and stuff so it’s probably better. Just do what you think’s best, I don’t mind. I don’t have to do any writing or nothing for a month so all my dreams have come true._ ”

“ _Are you sure you don’t want to talk to one of us any more about what happened?_ ” Burnie had asked, somewhat bemused after Michael’s little speech to him.

“ _I’m okay. It was scary but I’m okay now. I already told you what happened anyway - at the hospital, I told you everything how I remembered it._ ” He’d smiled up at Burnie, and then held up his hand, blue cast proudly on display around the two small fingers. “ _This, Burnie, is what we kids call badass._ ” The two of them had looked at each other for a moment before breaking down laughing.

“ _You’re ridiculous,_ ” Burnie had said, and Michael hadn’t disagreed; here he was after being physically attacked by another child who was still living in the same home as him (although it was still as yet undecided if that were to remain the case), laughing and joking around like it had just been another day, when in the past even any notion of violence would set his hackles rising, any sense that someone might be out to get one over on him, be it his parents, his older brothers, kids in school, it would all have him reverting back to his survival instincts, the idea that if you didn’t fight back in some way, some how, you would lose.

Michael hadn’t fought back at all this time, not as soon as he realized Lawrence had him locked in his grasp. He struggled to remember a time he’d ever given in so quickly. Then again, he struggled to remember a time he’d ever faced an opponent quite like that boy.

Drunkards and people high off their face - his mom and dad - jealousy and ingrained brutishness - his older brothers - the kids at school who’d said something to his face or behind his back, about the way he dressed, the way he spoke, the home he came from…

All different in their own way, and yet familiar too. Opponents he could recognize, or at least, recognize that similarity they shared between them, the fuel that _drove them_.

That was what made Lawrence different.

The look on his face, in _his eyes_ , the whole time he’d been staring at Michael while he hurt the younger boy and Michael was in so much pain to concentrate on anything much, he’d noticed one thing. Or rather, he hadn’t noticed _anything_ , at all. There had been nothing there. 

The words had been there, and the motivation for the attack, but beyond that, when Michael had looked into the other boy’s face, he’d found it empty. Devoid of any emotion.

And what he’d said after… “ _I’m sorry.”_

Had those words been meant for him? Or someone else entirely.

Whatever it meant, Michael just couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. Once his tears had dried and the pain began to dull, when he was sitting quietly in the hospital with Burnie, it had surprised him that the rage was not burning in his heart. He’d been waiting for it to arrive, expecting it. And when it had not come, even the next day, he had to come to the most obvious conclusion.

He wasn’t mad.

He wasn’t mad, and he wasn’t sad, and he wasn’t afraid. He was… confused, maybe?

Confused would be the word to describe everyone else’s reaction to the way he responded to the incident. Not Michael. Not little, fly-off-the-hook-at-one-tiny-thing Michael.

His nightmares hadn’t slowed. Although he was becoming more reluctant to refer to them as nightmares, more, unpleasant dreams. Memories.

His memories were coming back to him, slowly. He had no proof - he could obviously be making the stuff up in his subconscious, since they only reappeared first in his dreams. They felt real though, in his heart, when he woke up the next morning or sometimes in the middle of the night, his heart told him that they were real.

It had been a long time since he’d had dreams like this, since he’d dreamed about his family so vividly at all. Seeing them again, reliving memories he didn’t know he’d kept, remembering not only the bad but the _not so bad too_ \- it was strange. For so long all he could remember of that life was the bad, the days when his dad would be so depressed he would struggle to speak, and then his mom would be so high she would speak to ghosts only she knew.

But now he was remembering other stuff, other days. And they weren’t all that bad, not really.

Just small glimpses in time; watching TV squashed between his two brothers, his mom cutting his hair, his dad _laughing_.

Michael didn’t know what to make of it all. For as long as he could remember, his anger had always stemmed from his family, from all the injustice he’d seen at such a young age and how it had affected everyone around him. He’d been angry that he was already set on a similar path, with the way his schooling was going and such, and the way he could easily get into spats with other kids. He’d begun to think that he was going to end up the same as his parents, an inevitability, one day.

How could he know anything now when he couldn’t even trust what he thought he’d once known?

_Who am I?_

That day, a Saturday, was a dull, grey-skied day where everything just felt miserable outside. All the snow and ice had melted, leaving a horrible wet and muddy slush behind, the once pretty white that had covered the trees had now gone, leaving them barren and bare. School had started on Wednesday - unfortunately for Jack who’s birthday happened to fall on the same day - but Michael had never felt more relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to get used to his new routine, which spoke volumes about how disinterested he was in school life. He was given a partner to buddy up with and they basically did double the work, writing down his notes and any work they did during class. Michael had taken the initiative on that one, asking to be paired with a girl named Eliza, by far the smartest in their class and too friendly for her own good. It took less than a day for Michael to basically get her to just copy her work out twice, once for her and once for him.

Also any time he felt bored, which was a lot, he would just complain his hand hurt, asking to go to the nurse’s office. He did - go to the nurse’s office that is - but the route there and back was halted by frequent detours to the schoolyard.

All in all the new year had been very kind to him.

At that moment, however, Michael was bored, sitting by the window in his and Gavin’s room playing some random games on the iPad while he waited for the younger boy to return. Saturday mornings were when they usually went swimming - Gavin and Jeremy attending a class while Michael mucked around by the slides. It was the one thing he had to blame his fingers for, but… he could cope without Gavin for a few Saturday morning’s, he supposed. It’s what he’d persuaded Gavin of, anyway.

When he heard the tapping on his door, he could guess who it was before he even turned around. Only one person would be cautiously knocking on his already open door, someone who’d set the whole house on edge for a few days, and who was still causing the adults a great deal of stress, even if the boy himself had been a shadow ever since he’d sent Michael crying to the hospital.

Lawrence stood in his doorway, expression blank, but with fists tugging the bottom of his hoodie that proved he was likely a lot less composed than his steady frame would have him seem.

“Can I come in?” he asked, voice coming out slightly raspy, like it hadn’t been used in a while. “I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.”

Michael's mouth stretched into an amused expression. Being polite and asking for permission wasn’t Lawrence’s thing - at _all_ \- but Michael thought he was pulling it off quite well, keeping his voice at a normal speaking volume, calm, not threatening in any way. The fact that he might be sent away from the home at the slightest disturbance he caused didn’t have much to do with it, Michael thought. The older boy didn’t care what happened to him, no warnings about being taken from Rooster Teeth would have any control over him. He was on his best behavior for other reasons, then.

Whatever it was, Michael felt no fear. Not now, anyway.

“As long as we don’t have to fight again. I’d be even worse now I’ve only got one hand and I was pretty bad before, against you anyway. I do alright in the little fights we sometimes have in the schoolyard - but I know I don’t stand a chance against any of that ninja shit you did to me. Guess you knew that when you asked me to fight before, huh?”

Lawrence took a few steps into the room, body relaxing slightly. “It was a dirty move. I knew I’d beat you cause I knew you wouldn’t use any dirty moves like that, ones that would trick people. You ain’t a dirty fighter, Michael - simple as that, no matter what you fucking think.”

Michael couldn’t remember ever telling the older boy what he was thinking, never had a conversation that lasted longer than ten seconds before that other fateful day. From what he could gather, Lawrence paid even less attention to him than Michael did to him, and now here he was telling Michael that he was wrong about who he thought he was?

“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly. He hadn’t seen the boy since that day, the other staying in his room out of everyone’s way. Michael had been wondering of all the things he might say to him when he eventually saw him, and now that he was here, and it was just the two of them, there was only that one question in his mind.

“Why?” he asked again, louder, as Lawrence walked further into the room and leaned against the bottom of Gavin’s bed.

“Yeah…” he said. “Fucking ain’t got much of a reason or excuse for you there.” He hugged his arms across his chest, appearing even smaller than usual. “I know what you’ve been saying about me. I know you’ve been telling Gavin and James and all them lot that I murdered my dad.”

“Figured as much when you _broke my fingers_.” Michael couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice.

Lawrence glanced up at him.

“Yeah,” he repeated, and then quickly looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “But like I said, I don’t think that were the reason I did it. Might be the reason I came looking for you in the first place… but I never wanted to, I dunno - how’d you say it? Pasen de la raya, cross the line.”

Michael studied him. They weren’t tales, the other boy wasn’t fumbling for excuses. As far as Michael could tell, he was just telling him how it was. 

“Did you?” he whispered, unable to stop himself, but feeling like now was as good a chance as ever to get his answers. Because that was what had been bothering him more than anything. He knew he’d heard stuff being spoken between the adults, whether he was meant to or not; only a few words here and there, but enough to paint a picture in his head, a head already filled with disdain for the newest boy.

“Did I…?” Lawrence only sighed when he caught onto Michael’s meaning. “I dunno. I don’t fucking know.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, I dunno - y’know?”

“You’re not even going to pretend you didn’t?”

“What’s the point? You heard whatever you heard. I can’t do much to take that back.” He gave a dark laugh. “Unless I gave you brain damage too.”

“I’d rather you didn’t… I still don’t know what you mean,” Michael repeated slowly, and Lawrence tightened his arms across his chest.

“I ain’t gonna spend time discussin’ what I dunno, there ain’t no point.” Another humorless laugh that sounded louder than it was. He seemed to be unsure if he should stay or go, not used to spending so long in another’s company when he wasn’t being forced to. “My dad… he… well,” he sighed angrily. “My dad liked to drink, you see… like a lot, when he was out working and when he was home and any time he weren’t sleeping. He’d complain that I was always wastin’ water or electricity or somethin’ when all the fucker was doing was pouring money straight outta our pockets into the whiskey bottle. And, I guess you know this yourself, when he drank he got angry. And he drank a lot so he got angry a lot.”

He obviously harbored no fondness for the man, and Michael was only surprised he didn’t sound _more angry_ when he spoke of him.

_Of all the little things you’ve gotten mad about… thought that might’ve been number one on your list._ Maybe Lawrence was still being overly cautious about losing his temper, but it didn’t feel like it to Michael. Could he really just not care that much? Was there something more? An uneasy churning started up in his stomach.

_What’s it matter to me anyway?_

“And when he got angry, he got angry at you,” he said aloud. “He hurt you?”

Lawrence looked up at him. He nodded.

“Huh…” was all the sound Michael could make for a moment. It wasn’t any big shock, nothing too far from what he’d heard before, but the admission coming from Lawrence’s own mouth somehow made it all the more real. Whatever his thoughts towards the older boy were, it didn’t change his stance on how he felt about an adult who hurt kids. Especially the parents of those kids.

“Mine too, when he’d been drinking,” Michael continued thoughtfully. “Not that often but he liked to slap me around a bit when he’d had a bad day - just bruises, never broke any bones or nothing.”

“Fire poker.”

“Huh?”

“He used a fire poker,” Lawrence said, seeming to mistake Michael’s horrified silence at that statement as him not knowing what one was. “Like this metal stick thing you use to stoke fires, like the one downstairs. Hurts like a bitch. But they’re good if you know how to use them, and that fuckin’ asshole knew that much, he was good with it, I’ll give ‘im that. Even better if he heated it up first,” Lawrence added, letting loose another nasty laugh.

Michael felt a bit sick.

_Damn,_ was all he could think. He’d picked up the fire poker downstairs. It was really heavy, solid metal - it would hurt if you just accidentally dropped it on your foot from a couple inches high.

Lawrence, of course, could be lying to him. It wouldn’t be the first time the boy had lied, he lied all the time, about stuff he knew, or people he’d met, or things he’d done.

But he was pretty sure the older boy wasn’t lying to him. He seemed too stubborn to do that right now, and had little reason to anyway, and he was telling him about all this with such an assurance that he knew, deep down, that it was true.

He felt numb suddenly, cold and numb all over.

“Anyway,” Lawrence said. “You don’t care, do you? Why should you? Most of us have got shitty parents to end up in here. I ain’t no more special than the next fuck up, right?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Michael replied. His voice came out tight and curt. “You said… he did it right. What d’you mean?”

“I mean what I mean,” Lawrence scoffed. “He’d never hit me in the arm… or, like, my face, or somewhere visible if he knew people was gonna be seein’ me. Chest, ribs, stomach, those were the best places to do it so no one would see. I probably got a half dozen fractures or whatever that never got seen to cause nobody saw ‘em in the first place. He was kinda smart like that, you see. Plus, like I said – hurts like a bitch.” He tilted his head. “And I… not that I’m sayin’ breaking your fingers wouldn’t have hurt, cause I know it did and I… well, y‘know– ”

“It’s alright,” Michael cut his uncharacteristic stammering off. “You’ve already said sorry, you don’t have to again.” He nodded to the other boy. “You were saying?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah…” Lawrence spoke with a tone Michael had only heard once before, except this time he wasn’t being cajoled into fighting the other. “At least with broken bones pointing your body in the wrong direction and all, people notice them and they get fixed. Not so much happens when people don’t even know you’re hurtin’,” he murmured.

“You never told anyone?” Michael asked, even though he knew it was a pointless question. Of course he’d never told anyone. How many kids did?

Lawrence gave him a look too, that implied he knew Michael was just asking for the sake of asking. “Wan’t no point,” he said with a slight smirk. “Guy was actually a police and police don’t take kindly to one of their own being accused of summin’ like that, even if it were true.” The corner of his mouth dropped back down, along with his head. “Think maybe some of ‘em knew, the ones he drank with, but either they didn’t care or…”He broke off, body tensing suddenly. “Adults don’t care,” he said vehemently. “Ever.”

“Not all adults are the same –”

“I was different back then. Little pussy - never fight back. I’d just always… cower there and take it.” Lawrence laughed, harsh enough that Michael heard the rasp at the back of his throat. “You would’a right beaten me up if you knew me back then, I wouldn’ta stood a chance.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to anyway –”

“No fight in me… Just a pathetic little kid. Always took it. Took it whenever he felt like it. And then… Except that one day.” He met Michael’s eyes, who’d been staring unblinkingly at Lawrence ever since he started. “He came at me,” he told him. “‘cused me of firing his gun without his permission. I ain’t touched the thing! At least not that time anyway - motherfucker probably rid it of all it’s bullets himself when he was pissed, used to just shoot at the same tree stump out back over and over again.”

Lawrence’s arms loosened from his chest, although his fists were as tight as ever, knuckles jutting out harshly. “That time, when he grabbed the fucking fire stick, I just… I didn’t stay still. For once I didn’t cower or try and hide. I grabbed the nearest thing to me - this wooden stool.”

Lawrence paused for a long time then, but Michael didn’t feel the need to say anything for once, and eventually the older boy found the words to continue. “He weren’t scared when he saw me. Not when I was so small and had never hurt anybody in my life, never fought with nothin’. He just laughed, laughed and told me I was being stupid. That was when I did it. I hit him - right, smack in the chest, so hard it snapped two of the legs off the stool, left them hangin’ there all limply like.” He stared hard at Michael. “That didn’t do much, it just made him more angry, he was a big guy, you see, it wasn’t nothin’ to him. So he came at me then, and he were more than mad, had this look in his eyes like he was gonna beat me into nothin’ - but then… then he stopped and his face went real weird and he let out this choking sound.”

He stopped. The words had been so fast, spilling out with little control. He hadn’t dropped his gaze from Michael’s until now, and Michael had found it was like looking into the flames of a fire, seeing the event itself reflected in the green orbs.

“He fell,” Lawrence continued, slowly now. “Thud. He fell like the fuckin’ beast he were and he… and he just didn’t get up.”

And that was apparently all Lawrence had to say on the matter.

Michael swallowed, trying to keep his voice calm even though his heart was thudding heavily in his chest. “Then what happened?” he whispered, and Lawrence blinked, surprised perhaps that Michael wanted to hear any more.

He shrugged. “Nothin’,” he simply said, still unnervingly distant in the way he said it. “I left him there. I left him lying in the kitchen. I stepped around his body. I walked down the hall past the phone…” The smirk returned to his face, although now it looked more like a grimace. “And I went into my room and listened to music.”

He stood up, stuffing his hands into his jeans, facing Michael straight on. “They dunno if it would’a made a difference if I’d called 911 the moment it happened. Maybe I could’a saved his life and still be living with him right now. But I didn’t never do that so we won’t never know,” he murmured, speaking with such surprising honesty. “And so I don’t know if I killed my dad or not.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Michael blurted out, and Lawrence’s smirk turned a slight more real, head tilting in curiosity.

_He wasn’t expecting that,_ Michael realized - for me to take his side so quickly, but _shit_. After hearing all that, how could he not?

Broken fingers or not, that had nothing to do with the past and the apparent asshole who’d hurt the other boy. That was him, right? Always-speak-his-mind Michael. And his opinion was pretty much set in stone on this one.

“Whatever,” Lawrence said when the silence lingered. “I don’t care. Fucker’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

He yawned before turning around, as if to show off how over the whole thing he was, and Michael huffed in frustration a bit as he turned away, wishing for once that Lawrence wasn’t making moves to cut any human interactions short. He’d felt anger towards the boy, then confusion, and now it was like double confusion mixed with something new. 

He felt like he should say something. _Wanted_ to say something but nothing came to him, nothing good anyway.

_“Found the father dead with the boy just sat in his room.”_

_“They said they were too late, nothing much could be done.”_

_“Apparently the first thing he told the police was that he didn’t mean for anything to happen but he wasn’t upset.”_

Those were the few hushed words Michael had heard when he’d been breaking the rules, listening at the office door. 

And in his angry mind, he knew he’d jumped to conclusions, was obvious now. The other boy wasn’t some sort of ax-wielding murderer. He’d just been a kid trying to protect himself. Just like his other foster siblings had been. Just like Adam. Just like James. Just like himself.

Lawrence wasn’t quite gone yet. He’d paused by the door, one hand on the handle, back to Michael. “I really am sorry ‘bout your finger, Michael,” he said softly.

And then he was gone.

 

––––

 

They usually tried to limit their trips to the movies to about twice per month, but it was very difficult, naturally, when you had two teens as obsessed with movies as they were, especially when their movie theatre was one of the best places to hang out, for the food and the experience as well as just the viewing.

Jack actually managed to forget that he and Bruce were going there for his birthday as they sat in the massive cushioned seats and chowed down on fresh pizza, and became enraptured in a movie both boys had been wanting to see ever since the initial trailers had been released, letting out the occasional cries of excitement at the action on screen. At least until it was finished and they headed into a nearby fast food joint because a whole pizza each wasn’t nearly enough, and Bruce began talking about how he was getting old.

“Fourteen! You’re two-thirds of the way to being twenty-one. By then we’ll be heading to a bar to get drunk rather than coming to a place like this where they provide you with crayons to color in the menu.”

“You _chose_ to take the crayons,” Jack pointed out.

Bruce grinned, swiveling his menu around for Jack to view his art. He’d done a fine job of coloring the huddle of emperor penguins in an array of bright shades.

“It looks like a Gay Pride march. Gay Pride March of the Penguins.”

Bruce nearly choked on his water as a laugh ripped through him. He set it down on the table with a shaking head and slapped his hand up and down on the table, greatly approving of Jack’s joke.

“You’re funny, dude,” he chuckled.

“Uh huh,” Jack said, grinning. “I had to find some way to stay relevant in school once you left, didn’t I? I am now known as the funny guy amongst my peers. And affectionally as the Jolly Red Giant by close friends.”

“Red? Pretty sure it’s meant to be green,” Bruce pointed out, quieter all of a sudden. “Why’re you red?”

Jack slid his steak around on his plate, before stabbing it and picking up the whole thing with his fork.

“Because I’m Texas,” he declared, pointing the meat at Bruce.

Bruce laughed again. “You are the most Texas of dudes,” he agreed.

He flinched suddenly as a waitress brushed past him, knocking into his arm gently. She was balancing about six empty plates, something that never failed to amaze Jack.

“Jesus, dude,” Jack muttered, laughing as well as he watched Bruce pick up the knife he’d dropped on the table and wipe up the water that had spilled when he’d knocked his glass in his startled jump. “You’d have thought by your freak out she’d stabbed you as she went by.”

“It wasn’t a _freak-out_ ,” Bruce protested, rather feebly as Jack immediately started up with a loud explanation of just ‘how over-dramatic’ his reaction had been.

“I just _jumped_ , okay? It wasn’t that funny,” Bruce muttered, and Jack had to strain to hear him over the noise. “You know what? I take it back, you’re not funny at all.”

“Aww, c’mon, I was only messing, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you jump like that before, the look on your face was funny too,” Jack teased, returning his attention to his steak. “You always make fun of me whenever I walk into a glass door.”

“That’s because it’s your own fault and you do it far more than any normal person has right to,” was Bruce’s mumbling reply.

“I’m used to looking through one pair of glasses, so I don’t notice when there’s another layer,” Jack jokingly mused, eyes still on his plate of food.

However, when he glanced up again he caught a glimpse of nervousness on the older boy’s face. Upon this, Bruce smiled, but it quickly dropped again once he thought Jack was no longer looking.

“Don’t let one scary, scary waitress ruin your meal, Bruce. You know your food won’t actually bite, and seeing as this is for my birthday, I will be expecting you to pay for everything, so you better not let it go to waste,” he added, and Bruce nodded even though Jack wasn’t serious.

“Of course I will,” he replied. “I’m just glad the others aren’t here.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “At least Burnie’s ‘let’s get together like we’re all five year’s old to cut the cake and sing happy birthday’ is a way to get out of having to actually _do anything_ with the rest of them. I mean - I love them all to death, but I can name about three I’d actually choose to go to the movies with… unless, of course, you want each scene reenacted as soon as it’s happened, then James is a perfect choice.”

Bruce added something to his little light-hearted observation but Jack didn’t hear what it was. He was struggling to understand why his foster brother seemed so distant all of a sudden, surely he couldn’t have been that surprised earlier. After he’d finished his food and silence remained on the other side of the table, he pushed his plate to the side, leaning back in his seat, searching the other boy and his still mostly-full plate.

He’d been intending to bring it up at some point but it never felt like the right moment to mention it, it being the small changes he’d noticed in Bruce’s behavior over the past month or so. He felt like he needed to ask outright if Bruce was keeping something from him but the last few times, he’d talked himself out of it because _it’s Bruce,_ _it’s Bruce who’s always happy and would talk to me about anything –_

_But what if there was something that he’s not telling me?_

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, chewing on his lip in thought for a few moments. Looked up at the other boy and felt even more suspicious that he was hiding something. They hadn’t spoke for over five minutes, and that was unheard of, but for Bruce, it was like he hadn’t even registered the silence as he continued to slowly nibble at his food.

After some more time Jack finished off his drink and turned to lean against the wall, slumping back and thinking hard.

_What the fuck should I say?_

If he didn’t say _something_ it was only going to get harder and harder to bring it up. Even though he didn’t know what _it_ was.

_Should I just ask him what’s wrong again?_ He’d tried that a few times over the past few weeks, only for Bruce to give him a funny look and say ‘no’, why was he asking?

_Demand to know what he’s keeping from me?_

_But what the fuck would I even say to him?_

It seemed inevitable that there was no comfortable way to bring up such a conversation, and he had no idea how Bruce would react and that was honestly _terrifying_ , to think that Bruce might see it as Jack not trusting him, when he absolutely did with all his heart. And then, what if nothing was wrong? Even though Jack was almost certain there was because he knew his friend, his _brother_. And he was just acting… _different_.

This was just his luck, someone who always wanted to offer help in any way he could while also being out of his depth when it came to any kind of rejection from the other party.

“Bruce?”

A sudden voice by their side had both boys jumping that time, startling Jack out of his thought that he jerked his knee into the bottom of the table. The owner of the voice let out a light chuckle, holding out his hand towards Bruce. He was tall, older than the both of them, with short, spiked brown hair and bright hazel eyes - and he was big, more muscular than any kid around their age had the right to be.

“Foxy,” Bruce said, grabbing the other’s hand in greeting. “What you doing here?”

They were on friendly terms, Jack noted. Another friend Bruce hadn’t told him about because, let’s face it, there were many and Bruce probably forgot.

As for Bruce, he was smiling now. Relaxed shoulders, natural smile. He moved his hand to push his half-full plate away, covering his little penguin drawing up as he did so, a funny little gesture that Jack wondered if it was to do with his older friend being here and wanting to put on a certain show.

“Just with some of the guys,” the boy called Foxy - _ha, really?_ \- replied, his own grin never failing, as he took a seat next to Bruce without even asking.

Jack watched as Bruce shuffled over and Foxy smiled and smiled back at him until Bruce cracked another smile too.

“Hey, who’s your little friend?” Foxy asked, and Jack’s face reddened.

“Oh yeah, sorry! This is Jack. He’s my brother. Foster brother. I mean, we live in the same home, y’know?”

“Sweet,” Foxy said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack. You don’t go to our school, do you?”

“Nah, I’m one year below,” Jack replied, and the older boy laughed and grabbed his shoulder giving it a rough shake that Jack supposed was all in play. He was clearly one of the guys, like a ‘bro’, and not in the joking way.

“By the way,” the older boy added. “Don’t let your bro fool you, my name’s not actually Foxy. My parents weren’t complete idiots. I was born in the UK, though, in a pub my parents ran called The Fox and Hounds, so naturally, I became The Fox, or as some people call me, Foxy. And that’s the end of the story.”

Jack blinked. “So… your real name is?”

“Oh!” Both he and Bruce winced as the boy let out an enormous laugh. “What an idiot! Uh, my real name’s Jon, at your service.”

Well, he was certainly… friendly? Jack watched as Jon, Foxy, whatever, asked if Bruce was done with his food before helping himself to the leftovers. He and Bruce were talking animatedly about something - probably school stuff, Jack decided, when he heard a few girl’s names come up followed by ‘ _cute’, ‘fucking hot’,_ and _‘what a bitch’_ \- Jack was no longer paying the conversation much attention and he settled himself and observed as Jon made a flailing motion with his arms and Bruce shook his head with exasperation that earned him a hefty punch on the arm, the older boy clearly not aware or concerned with how heavy-handed he could be.

It was kind of funny to watch them; Jon released the few remaining peas on the table to “race them”, shouting “faster dickheads,” every few seconds and Bruce laughing as he tried to stop the food from ending up on the floor before finally collecting them all in his hand and throwing them down Jon’s shirt. The older boy even discovered Bruce’s hidden penguin colouring at one point and regarded it with amusement, proclaimed that they were ‘Rainbow Penguins’. Jack didn’t think that was nearly as good as his name but he said nothing - although when had he become the bystander at his own birthday meal? Three days after the fact, but still…

He tried to think of ways to get the newcomer to leave but eventually it was sorted on it’s own.

“Shit, I should get back to my own group, our foods probably there by now,” he said, standing up and ruffling Bruce’s hair. “Nice seeing ya, give me a call sometime, we gotta hang out somewhere else other than the field with Coach Philips shouting in our ears.” He smiled at Jack, although Jack wasn’t even sure if it could be classed as a smile if that was the only expression the older boy seemed to have. “Nice meeting you Jack, keep Brucie out of trouble, won’t you?”

“You too,” Jack simply replied.

“Oh, and Happy Birthday, by the way!”

“Oh… thanks.”

“Y’know you two actually look like brothers, now I’ve got a good look at ya. I know you ain’t related or nothing, but you just… well, I can tell you two are tight.” He bent down, whispering loudly into Bruce’s ear, “bet Teri’s gonna love him, you better watch out, bud.”

Bruce’s eyes widened and he sent Jon away with a shove, the other boy only cackling manically.

Their table seemed quiet now, the calm after the storm following the hurricane of energy that had just blasted through.

Now that his school buddy had gone, Bruce appeared to have reverted back into his distant self. Jack tapped his fingers on the table, trying to work out if he liked Jon or not, at the same time wondering if Bruce liked Jon all that much. He’d seemed, as joyous as he had been all of a sudden, not quite himself around the older boy.

Then again, he’d seemed that way too with Jack recently…

“Hey, Jumpy, you two close?” Jack asked, and Bruce stiffened a little.

“Who?”

“Uhh… Jon. Foxy. The guy that was literally just here,” Jack replied, pulling a face. There was a jug of water on the table and Bruce reached to fill his glass up, looking like he needed a drink after that interaction. “I’m not surprised you’ve been so tired if that’s the sort of guys you hang around with.”

Bruce hummed. “Yeah, he can get quite hyper.”

_You’re telling me,_ Jack thought, and knocked back his own glass without saying anything.

There was a moment of companionable quiet as they sat together. Out the big windowon the third floor, Jack could see the lights of the city, some of them slowly blinking out as it got later, the quiet noises of night traffic down below. He got melancholic sometimes, late at night, thinking of how it was cars like all those that had taken his family away from him. Bruce was usually the one who settled him.

Jack frowned, thinking back to Jon’s parting words, only just now fully taking them in.

“What did he mean when he was talking about someone named Teri or something? Is that one of your friend’s too? Wait - she’s the radio club president, isn’t she?” He gave a wry smile. “Why would you need to watch out cause she’ll love me or whatever?”

Jack’s inquiring gaze was set firm and Bruce looked up to him, meeting his eyes.

“Y’know how I was nervous about joining the club, even though I love music and all? And how it took a lot of convincing from everyone to get me to set foot in the door? And how Teri’s been really awesome and made me feel really welcome right away? And how she’s been getting me included in projects and stuff they don’t normally let newcomers do?"

“Yeah…” Jack drawled out slowly.

“Anyway.” Bruce drained the rest of his water and set his glass down. “We’ve gotten close over the past few months… and then, closer…”

“ _Closer_ ,” Jack repeated, the word flipping around deep in his gut. “Wait? _What?_ ”

Bruce barked out a laugh. “I guess I mean closer, as in how it sounds. It happened quite quickly really and I didn’t really know what was going on. First I don’t think I even realised cause she’s a junior and I’m well… I’m _me_. But there you go, it did happen and now here I am.”

Jack stared back at him, thinking back over all the instances recently where Bruce had been coy or distant or uncomfortable, especially when the topic of his school or social life was brought up.

It clicked instantly. Which was, to be honest, a lot slower than it should have been. 

“You have a _girlfriend_?!” he shrieked out, causing a blushing Bruce to quickly shush him. “Teri’s your girlfriend?” Jack lowered his voice ever so slightly. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird for the past month?”

_This would explain everything._ His brain was more than happy to accept this as fact. It was the most reasonable explanation, after all. 

“I’ve been acting weird?” Bruce half asked, half stated, sounding a little strange. He looked up at Jack. “I’ve been acting weird?” he asked again, a definite question this time.

Jack nodded, all his worries about the subject gone now that it was all out in the open and the pressure was off him. “Yeah, you’ve been all shifty and I knew you were keeping something from me. I knew it!” He let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head bemusedly. “Jeez, I thought maybe something was wrong and I needed to be worried and then I was worried about asking you and then I was worried cause I was spending too much time worrying about asking you…”

“Sounds worrying.”

Jack grinned, dismissing the blank expression on Bruce’s face for annoyance at having been caught out like this. “Right? I should’a known better. Man, I didn’t give you enough credit. If high school for you is anything like middle school, this is no surprise. Great grades, friends with the jocks –”

“He’s not a jock –”

“Got a girlfriend.”

“Jack.”

“Hey, you had a girlfriend before Ryan even did!”

“ _Jack_.”

Jack ignored him, leg bouncing in excitement at the thought of telling Ryan. Even though he always said he didn’t care, he was pretty sure the older teen would see this as a loss. He could no longer come in second for the competition of getting a girlfriend… Unless you counted Jeremy and the apparent multiple girls he was dating at the moment.

“ _They’re running my bank account dry,_ ” was a line Jack had never expected to hear from the five-year-old.

He continued, grinning at Bruce: “Aw, I can’t wait to see his and Geoff’s face when I tell them.”

“No!”

“No?” Jack queried, eventually stopping his rambling.

Bruce leaned forward, an air of desperation about him. “Don’t tell anyone else. Please,” he begged. “Just keep this to yourself for now.”

Jack didn’t get it.

He knew that privacy was treasured amongst kids their age, when everything was so often exposed for all to see. Even more so for kids in care, living with so many people, word and gossip could spread quick, often getting distorted by the younger kids.

“No one… no one can know,” Bruce continued. “Not yet.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, mutely. There was something about Bruce other than pure embarrassment or shock, all the urgency in his tone.

Bruce reached out and grasped his hands together his front of Jack.

“It’s just - it’s important, alright?” he said, and gave a small smile. “For now I just want things kept on the down-low.”

“Why?” Jack shot back automatically. “The others are bound to find out soon - wait, how on earth does Geoff not know yet? Ryan, I get. But Geoff?”

“We’ve been keeping things quiet,” Bruce replied. “Teri’s, like, the daughter of the maincandidate for mayor and so her family’s in the spotlight a lot, and so she didn’t want us to be a distraction. You see?”

Jack nodded, albeit hesitantly, and Bruce smiled a bit. And then pulled his phone out, hurriedly typing.

“Okay…” Jack mumbled. “How does Jon know then?”

Bruce snorted, still staring at his phone. “Cause he’s fucking nosy, that’s why. But he won’t tell anyone else. So, please,” he glanced up, eyes pleading. “Keep this between us?”

“Alright,” Jack said with a nod, without really even thinking about it.

He’d do what Bruce asked him to. Not blindly of course, but that was what he was supposed to do, to be there for his brother. Just like they had been for each other ever since they first met, seven and eight years old, tiny kids, scared, together in their new life when all the people who’d ever loved them were gone.

Jack didn’t evaluate their relationship much. They were close, of course - two of the tightest in the home, never bored of each others company - but in general speaking openly about their feelings for one another was kind of weird. After all, at the end of the day, they were still teenage boys.

But he felt a sudden unease as he realised, why hadn’t Bruce told him sooner, or at all - that it had to be revealed by a third party?

_He should know I wouldn’t have said anything if he asked_ , he thought, with a sudden upset.

“Thanks, Jack,” Bruce said, snapping him out of it a bit. He leaned over and gave Jack’s shoulder a fond shake, a lot gentler than Jon had been with him, not letting up until Jack laughed a little and shook him off. When he pulled back Bruce rubbed a fist across his eyes and Jack looked at him - eyelids red and slightly puffy, hair dishevelled, jaw muscles tense - he still didn’t quite look like the boy he knew as his brother.

Bruce appeared suddenly startlingly alone, sitting there closed in on himself, despite the way he was trying to act around Jack. His attention had drifted across the room to where the majority of the restaurant’s noise was originating from, where Jon and his crew had set up shop.

“You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

Bruce returned his gaze to him. The other boy’s face was strained, again not looking anything like the bouncy and fun teen at all. Like a boy who was struggling with something big.

“Everyone’s been asking me that lately,” Bruce muttered. “Least now I know why.”

“Like I said, it’s just cause you’ve been _acting_ differently lately,” Jack replied softly. “Nothing big just small differences that aren’t like you, but… least I know what you’ve been hiding - unless there’s some other top secret you’ve been keeping.”

It was meant in jest but the moment the words left his mouth Bruce’s eyes narrowed and his face became firm. “I’m fine. _Really_. Just let it go already, we’re meant to be here celebrating you, not talking about me.”

He looked so hard at Jack it could almost pass for a small glare and Jack felt himself backing down on the topic. It couldn’t stop the random thoughts that kept striking him - _what if there is something he’s still not telling me? And if so, what on earth could it be? - he should know I’d do anything for him - but maybe he’s afraid I’ll ask why - why seems to be his least favourite question nowadays._

But on the other hand, he _could_ just be tired, Jack’s mind whispered, seeing as he was so busy with school and all the extra-curricular activities he partook in. It could just be the stress of being fourteen years old and apparently dating someone extremely well-known within the school.

Yeah, it could just be nothing.

It was probably nothing.

It was most likely just Jack being paranoid, making something out of nothing.

He let himself push it aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what's going on with Bruce...?
> 
> Plus, I just wanted to say thank you for all the great comments on the last chapter! They made me super happy! THANK YOU!


	16. Chapter 16

_“I’ve seen another world.” - James_

 

A month passed and nothing particularly special occurred, at least on the whole. Yeah, in general, life at Rooster Teeth was pretty much the same as it always had been. But personally, everyone had gone through their own small changes, had their own events affect their own lives in their own private ways.

Michael eventually had his cast taken off and was disappointed when the excuse of ‘I’ve forgotten how to write’ didn’t convince his teacher that he could no longer do work.

Adam began taking photos, sticking the best ones in a scrapbook he’d been given for Christmas. He wanted to make sure he would never forget all the good memories, like he was afraid his younger brother was beginning to - of their time living with just their mom, before everything got so messed up.

Bruce continued working hard at school. He continued strengthening the new relationships he had made, both friend-wise and other… He made sure to be more careful with putting a happy face on for others.

Gavin found himself requiring more privacy. He had opened his mystery package a few weeks ago, but told no one. He read. And he became increasingly lured back into his past. He continued to keep quiet about it though. He’d been told, this was their little secret.

Lawrence began taking extra classes to catch up on his reading, a choice that was made for rather than by him. The first teacher quit. As did the next one… And the next. Gus took over for the time being. Burnie was still trying to think of a long-term solution.

Jack kept quiet about Bruce. In a way, he wished that whole evening had never happened. Partly because he was left keeping a secret that he wasn’t entirely sure needed to or should be kept, but mainly because he was being bugged by Jon every day asking if he wanted to hang out.

James smiled, laughed, and joked about as always. He charmed his teachers and friends and cajoled Adam and Elyse into wrestling with him. He only had one bad day. But it was a really bad one. He didn’t talk to anyone much for a few days after.

Elyse grew more and more comfortable with her place in Rooster Teeth. She spent most days with Adam, and even more with James. He kept her entertained and made her laugh as usual. She worried about him, sometimes.

Oh, and Jeremy microwaved some broccoli until it exploded.

In turn, Trevor spent a whole afternoon cleaning the said microwave.

As for the eldest two, Ryan and Geoff often liked to consider themselves to have the most mature stuff going on in their lives. Although both would disagree with the other on that fact.

“ _You think more about girls and what pranks you can pull than actual work!”_

_“You spend more time living as your D &D character than you do being Ryan!”_

_“You’re just immature and idiotic."_

_“You’re a fucking maniac.”_

Brotherly love and all that.

They had their moments though - rare occasions when they realized maybe they were more similar and like-minded than they thought.

On that day the particular moment came in the form of Geoff doing something very un-Geoff-like. He came asking for advice.

“You’re a smart guy, aren’t you Ryan?”

“Wuhh…” Ryan was on guard immediately, staring up at him as Geoff leaned over the back of the couch. His eyes were suspicious - a little curiosity burning underneath them, but still relentlessly watchful. Geoff rolled his eyes at him and leapt over the couch to bounce heavily on the cushions next to the younger teen.

“I need your opinion on something,” he said, and Ryan snorted.

“What are you up to?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about. What the fuck am I going to do, Ryan?”

“I’m trying to work, I’m not in the mood,” Ryan mumbled, turning back to the school papers in his lap, and Geoff groaned. 

“What do I do - with my life?”

“What?” Ryan spat out. He gazed at Geoff with utter bemusement - still suspecting some ulterior motive here, eyes flicking across Geoff’s face, looking at the older boy as if he’d gone mad and then raising an eyebrow. Whatever he’d been expecting from the other it was not this.

“Has something happened?” he asked slowly.

Geoff didn’t reply straight away. It seemed Ryan wasn’t the only one who struggled to find the right words at times.

“No… no,” he muttered. “I mean, unless you count the past eight years of my life I’ve spent in care and the first nine I spent in terror, then nothing’s happened.”

The suspicion Ryan had felt at first disappeared instantly as he took in the seriousness of Geoff’s tone and the expression on his face that grew more troubled by the second. Geoff wasn’t one to talk about his past much - heck, none of them were - but if he ever did it was more often than not with a light or joking manner; Ryan had often been surprised how easy it seemed to be for the eldest, dipping back into his history with a lazy grin, like it was nothing but an unpleasant vacation he’d once been on.

Geoff, of course, could also be a dick and pretend that Ryan had hurt his feelings or triggered a bad memory in order to get one up in an argument they were in, but as Ryan watched Geoff now - sitting with his knees up to chin - there wasn’t an ounce of mischief or glimmer of rebelliousness that usually resided within him.

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” he heard Geoff saying as he rubbed at his eyes. “Just had a lot of shit on my mind recently.”

“I’m listening,” Ryan told him honestly. “Work can wait. This class is boring anyway, like you warned me, right?”

Geoff shot him an openly grateful look before launching into his rant.

“I’ve looked at every fucking school, every fucking apprenticeship, every fucking possibility available to me after I graduate,” he said. When Ryan just looked at him expectantly, it seemed to anger him even further. “And I don’t wanna do any of it!”

“Then don’t,” Ryan piped up, and regarded him with a perplexed face. “Just get a run of the mill job. I would have thought you of all people would just be about doing whatever you wanted.”

“That’s not the point,” Geoff snapped, glancing quickly back to the door at the sound of footsteps bounding past - “Let me know if one of them comes in.”

He was concerned, Ryan saw - might have come to vent his feelings to Ryan but didn’t want any of the other kids to see him like this - come to think of it, Ryan was confused as to why Geoff was coming to him with a rant of this nature in the first place. He was hardly the closest to Geoff, he wasn’t sure who was actually, the guy was close with everyone but whoever it was it wasn’t him. He wasn’t exactly known for being the best of talkers or advice giving either, unless it was tech related, so why Geoff had chosen to sit hunched up next to him was a mystery.

“You could just do something you enjoy,” Ryan murmured, more gently than he expected. “At least get the experience and the future can figure itself out later.” Geoff twisted his neck to look at him again, pulling an even more exasperated face.

“But I don’t even know what I enjoy!” he replied.

“C’mon,” Ryan said. “You like… video games and movies. Why not do a degree in film or something?”

Geoff pulled a face. “You mean a degree in working in a coffee shop for the rest of my life?”

Ryan thought of every single cup of coffee Geoff had ever made him.

“No. Please. Don’t ever do that.”

Ryan turned his attention back to the papers left on his lap - but then paused, noticing that Geoff was still silent. And not just silent - _still_. He had thought that the little conversation was over as this was how their more serious chats would go, Geoff would vent or let off whatever steam he needed to, and then he’d go and find someone _better_ \- Burnie if the problem was academic related, Bruce or Jack if it was social, e.g. girls. Ryan was only ever the pitstop, someone he didn’t have to watch his words with as much, before he moved on to more suitable company.

“Geoff, you okay?” Ryan asked, the words sounding strange as they came out. That was a question he didn’t have a memory of ever asking. Geoff had asked him, but he didn’t ever remember returning the favor. But that was because it _was Geoff_. And Geoff was always okay. Okay was about as low as Ryan had ever seen him.

“I try not to think of it, y’know,” Geoff said absently, his eyes staring at nothing in particular - sure enough, when he did look over and met Ryan’s gaze, they looked glazed over, then _scared._ “I know I always joke about it but… but ageing out of the system is… _fuck_.”

“I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of here,” Ryan said, and when Geoff shook his head in response he sighed. “You need to talk to Burnie then. Things can be sorted out y’know, there’s more support. It’s not like it was in Trevor’s day, not here anyway. I mean, you could probably have it sorted that you stay here for longer if you really wanted to.”

Geoff shot him thin-lipped smile, but it was only a smile in terms of the way his mouth shaped. Ryan almost fell back in shock at the sudden tears he could see glistening in Geoff’s eyes. Unshed but brimming as the older boy repeatedly shook his head like he was trying to flick them out.

“I couldn’t think of anything more selfish,” he said, sounding so disgusted by the idea that Ryan was further confused. “I could never do that.”

“Geoff,” Ryan murmured, softly, shooting the boy a wary look. “I can get Burnie if you want.”

Geoff shook his head.

“I can’t tell him, can’t let him down, if he thought I was acting like this after all he’s done for me.” He closed his eyes so tight that a stray drop squeezed out at the corner only for Geoff to wipe it away furiously. Ryan was at a loss. He didn’t know how to act. He’d never _had_ to act in a situation like this before. Like he’d been thinking, Geoff was always just… Geoff. And Geoff didn’t have breakdowns like this.

Still. Geoff was not so unlike the others, older and more comfortable with dealing with his past and the stigmas that could come with being a kid in care, but still just one of the kids Ryan lived with, honestly one of the few who knew Ryan better than most, and so despite all the rivalry there could often be between them, Ryan had no choice but to offer his hand in comfort. Metaphorically, of course.

“How would it be selfish?” he asked abruptly, still confused over that whole outburst.

Geoff looked surprised that he was even asking.

“Cause me staying longer than normal would mean I’d be taking away the chance for another kid to get a place here,” he replied, frowning like it was so obvious.

“Like who?”

“Like any kid - _God_ , Ryan, do you have any idea how many kids are in foster care in this country on any given day? More than four hundred thousand, and it grows each year.”

“But this isn’t about them. It’s about you and what you want.”

“No,” Geoff said softly. “No matter how much I’d love to live here another couple more years, I could never live with myself knowing I was preventing a kid in need getting a bed in a fucking awesome home like this. A kid who needs it so much more than me.”

Geoff couldn’t help but smirk as Ryan was left stunned, his tongue faltering with how earnest Geoff had been. The older boy leaned back and rubbed at his eyes some more, turning away from Ryan, catching his breath. From here Ryan could see his chest heaving.

“Weird, ain’t it?” Geoff breathed after a moment. “When I was nine years old leaving home was a dream come true for me. I was running from hell. And I kept running until I finally got here, and then I… stopped. Back then I was naive enough to think that I’d come to my final resting place. That this would be my home forever. But that isn’t true, here’s just a welcome rest point before you go off into the real world. And it’s not like normal people’s childhood homes; it’s not like I can just pop back whenever I feel like it or crash on a bed if I need to. After a couple of years, it’ll look completely different. After ten I probably won’t even recognize it.”

Ryan thought about how true those words were, if they were what he thought too. To be honest, he’d never considered what would happen to Rooster Teeth after he left -a place that had apparently changed a fuck ton since Geoff had moved in over eight years ago. He supposed it would be weird to come back, if he ever did come back, to find a place he’d spent most of his teenage years looking and feeling completely different, but he didn’t think he would be particularly bothered.

He wondered if it had to do with, more than anything, the fact that Rooster Teeth didn’t mean the same to him as it did to Geoff. True, he was very lucky, and he would be eternally grateful for the place he’d been given, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t his childhood home. His childhood home was on a military base in Georgia, and then one in South Carolina and another in Florida, before finally moving back to Georgia again.

No. Rooster Teeth was a home that he was happy for, but it was a _care_ home. And even though he still had another two years here, even now he doubted he would ever miss it that much. The staff, yes. The kids, mostly. People always said that Ryan wasn’t the best at socializing, but he’d already made a promise to himself a long time ago not to drop out of contact with those who’d made his time in care surprisingly… fuck, _enjoyable I guess?_

Besides, he was pretty sure Burnie would personally track him down if he ever went off the radar for too long.

He centered on Geoff again.

And he saw it.

This was Geoff’s home. Out of everyone living in the home, Ryan considered that the oldest boy was one of the few who didn’t have a sense of having a childhood home. He was the only one who’d left on his own accord. The others - they’d all be taken by the authorities in one way or another. The only one in a similar situation was Gavin. But again, that boy was in a whole different ballpark.

Shit - he supposed ageing out of the system was in reality Geoff’s version of being taken from his childhood home.

“It doesn’t matter.” Beside Ryan, Geoff shifted and Ryan knew he had his attention. “Listen, I haven’t really known you all that long, considering things.” He offered Geoff a small, knowing smile. “But from what I’ve heard from Burnie and the others, you were the craziest little shit to deal with. I can put up with you, anyway, and the others seem to absolutely love and adore you for some reason.” He smiled again at the short bark of laughter from the older boy. The teasing nature between them came as natural as anything.

“What I’m saying is you’ve changed a lot over the years, and it’s been for the better,” he continued. “Now things are gonna change again and it’s kinda scary, cause you’ve got a good thing going, the only good thing you’ve ever known. But what you have to remember is that you’re not gonna lose any of it, Geoff. You’re life is gonna change, hell, lives are always changing out there in the adult world - but your home, your family, that’s always gonna be there. And I don’t mean the bricks and wood that make up these walls and floors, or the people who live in this house and sleep in these beds. I mean you. I mean your _experiences_.” He gestured wildly around the room. At the artwork, photos, and toys that were scattered in every corner of the living room. “No way in a million years are you gonna lose this place and the kids here easily. Moving out means nothing. It’s the memories you’ve made here that are the most important. You’ll always have those memories and you’ll always have the people to reminisce on them with. Like you’re always saying, we’re a family. The kids you’ve spent time with here, they’ll… we’ll always be your family, no matter how far we go once we eventually leave.”

Geoff was watching him after with an expression Ryan wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen on his face before. At least not directed towards him. If Ryan didn’t know any better he would have said Geoff almost looked in awe.

“Basically what I’m saying is: Whatever happens, I’ll never stop seeing you as a piece of shit,” he finished off smoothly.

Geoff blinked, swallowing a few times, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he eventually said, throat still sounding dry.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I know nice is the last thing we ever like to be to each other.”

Geoff let out another laugh. Before Ryan could say more, he closed the gap between them, dropping his head to rest heavily on Ryan’s shoulder and staring calmly up at him while Ryan struggled to keep his eyes from popping out of his head.

“Y’know you’re my brother, right Ryan?” he said quietly. “I know we always fuck with each other but you never think that’s serious, right? You know I love you as much as anyone else here.”

He was looking at a Ryan with an open expression, not quite innocent, but close to _childlike._ It had Ryan lost for words, freezing up, something warm forming in his chest. Geoff looked at him for a moment longer before sitting up again.

He didn’t seem disappointed that Ryan wasn’t answering, almost like he expected it.

Because that was Ryan and he always had been the lone wolf of the house. His ties to the people here never quite felt like those he’d had to his family. He already had a brother. Once. Jason had been his brother. Would always be his brother.

But then, Geoff was too, he supposed, weird as it sounded in his own head. Brothers of the system. Brothers of circumstance. Brothers of experience, and memory.

He let out a gentle laugh, catching Geoff’s eye with a humored glint. “I know,” he said.

And both he and Geoff knew that he meant it.

For once, they were on the same page.

 

––––

 

Soaked. They had all got absolutely soaked. Drenched through and through.

Of course, that had been exactly their plan.

Great Wolf Water Park was an hour or so away from Rooster Teeth and it had been the location of Adam’s early birthday treat. He wasn’t turning eleven for another week but this weekend was cheaper than the one after his birthday so… he was hardly going to complain _when_ he got to go to a water park anyway.

Trevor and Matt, full of youthful confidence, had agreed to take the six youngest away. The rule was one carer for every three kids. It often felt like the rule should have been three carers for every kid but they managed well enough in the end. At least the kids could never roam too far seeing as they had technically been in one giant enclosed area, and there were plenty of lifeguards and staff to make sure nobody got into trouble.

Gavin, with his newfound swimming skills and confidence in the water, had been like a little fish - doing flips under the water and jumping from the highest diving boards. Trevor had noticed a real improvement in the seven-year-old over the past few weeks - or perhaps change was a better word. He was louder and more boisterous, not as afraid to speak up amongst a crowd anymore. He wondered where the sudden change in behavior had come from, but assumed it was just Michael and Jeremy finally rubbing off on him.

The trip had been a nice brief break away from everything for a while. But now it was the last night, and they’d be heading home tomorrow afternoon.

Elyse was already lying in her bed, facing the wall, when the door opened and the boys filed in. For some reason in the evenings they always took _forever_ in the bathroom. Maybe it was her strict upbringing but she found she could get ready for bed within ten minutes, not the half hour it seemed to take those lot. Of course, Jeremy was a whole other story - if she remembered rightly his current excuse was that he was allergic to shutting his eyes but only before ten pm after that it was okay.

“Alright, c’mon boys, it’s lights out.” It’s Trevor who accompanied them into their dorm room, his soft tone one she was well familiar with now, a comfort of sorts.

“But I’m not tired!” Jeremy instantly whined, and continued whining, all the way from the doorway, across the room and into his bed. “It’s too early!”

Gavin too, for once, was not entirely compliant. “Aww, I don’t wanna go to bed,” he said, Trevor simply responding with a light chuckle. 

Their hotel room was actually a little wooden lodge; a dorm of bunk beds for the kids and adjacent rooms for the two adults. From here they could walk to the main water park and allowed them their own little patch of land, good for playing tag or hide and seek to get rid of any excess energy. Her bed - small but cozy - sat at the back of the room by the window, and now the moonlight still shone through the pane, illuminating her corner in a bluish light.

“Nope, no you’ve stayed up way later than normal anyway,” Trevor said as the boys continued to complain. "Go straight to sleep, okay?”

“But –”

“Shh, Elyse’s already asleep.”

She wasn’t, but it seemed to quiet them, and she didn’t want to give the game away if she could be of some help.

The bed opposite hers bounced with the weight of a small five-year-old jumping in.

“Jeremy, did you go to the bathroom?” Trevor checked.

“Uhh…. I think so.”

“You think? Or _you know_?”

“Maybe… ?” The little boy squeaked out uncertainly.

There was a cackle of laughter from Michael. “You’re crazy, Lil J.”

“Yeah, you’re real crazy, Lil J,” Adam confirmed.

“Aww, little Lil J –”

“ _Shh_ , Gavin.” Trevor put a stop to the ribbing before they worked themselves up again.

“Lil J, always wets the bed.”

“No I don’t!”

“Gavin, what did I say?” Trevor whispered loudly. “To bed - quiet now. Kisses all around, and then lights out.”

“Kay…” came a chorus of quiet replies.

“I don’t want a kiss,” she heard Jeremy declare. There was a pause. “Actually, I do.” He changed his mind just like they all knew he would. Afterwards he said to Trevor, “I want to give you a kiss.”

Trevor sighed. “Okay,” he agreed.

Elyse tried to turn so she could see what was going on as Jeremy whined a moment later, “No that wasn’t the proper one!”

“Jeremy…” Trevor warned, knowing better than anyone that the youngest was just trying to delay sleep even further.

“Just one more,” Jeremy insisted, and despite the sigh Elyse could picture the smile on the young carer’s face. “Goodnight, Trevor,” Jeremy said after, followed by the others.

“Sweet dreams, boys.”

Elyse smiled to herself. The younger boys at Rooster Teeth often liked to pretend that they were teenagers already and that they could happily go to bed by themselves. Well, Elyse knew better. They were all still just big babies.

She stilled as she felt a warm hand rest a moment on her head, brushing her hair back for a few seconds, before it lifted and Trevor left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The room went quiet.

It was about half an hour later, when the breathing in the room had steadied and slowed, and Elyse was on the cusp on falling to sleep herself, that something stirred her back to full awareness. She lifted her head slightly to the noise and spied someone on the floor.

It was unmistakably the figure of James, crouching silently by his bed. At first Elyse thought maybe he was just looking for something in his bag and it wasn’t until he stood up and grabbed for his jacket that she realized he’d been putting his shoes on.

In no less than five seconds after the door shut was she jumping out of bed and rushing to put her own shoes and jacket on. Exiting the dorm there was no sign of James and so she dashed to the main door - a dead end however, it was locked and there’s no way she or James could open it without running the risk of alerting Trevor or Matt.

Turning around, her answer came to her in the form of the window at the other end of the hallway. Open.

Walking as quickly and quietly as she could, she peered her head out into the darkening evening.

He hadn’t got very far. He was still on the main pathway that lead up to their lodge. And now she had a choice to make. Looking back, she could hear the sound of the TV from Trevor and Matt’s room and dead silence from hers. She turned back to James, getting further and further away. No brainer.

She followed him silently. _Prowling_ was perhaps the best word for what he was doing, although what he was prowling _for_ was less the worry about being spotted or followed and more a natural stance that he took on like a hunter in the night, one with the shadows like it was a second home.

At some point Elyse realized James knew she was behind him.

_Easily_ , she had realized, the way he was moving suggested he could have easily lost her without even trying. That he could turn a corner and disappear into the night. The fact that he always remained in her line of sight was telling, waiting just enough that he’d always be close. _He was allowing her to stay._

He was slowing down, it seemed. His strides shortening, back straightening up from his crouched stance, head turning to the sides for the first time so he could observe his surroundings properly rather than solely walking forward with a purpose.

He settled on a small wall that overlooked a river. You could no longer see the fish that lived there but the sound of running water still echoed throughout the empty park.

He turned then, suddenly, and looked her dead in the eye.

The shock of it had Elyse uneasy. The unexpected eye-contact surprised her - especially here and now, when he’d been so careful not to acknowledge her presence until that moment.

A flicker of a smile on James’ face relaxed her slightly. He sat up a bit, leaning toward her and gesturing her to sit next to him. Even in the dimness of the fairy lights that lined the tree branches his eyes stood out large and vibrant like two blue pools watching her closely as she walked up. He smiled wider as she came to stand next to him, but there was that sense that she found herself always getting, one that she’d come to understand was a feeling she only got when James was… ‘not all there’ as she’d heard the boy himself put it.

_Doesn’t take a genius figure that when he’s sneaking off at night,_ she thought, taking a seat on the cold brick wall, lifting her fingers to the light breeze as it danced around them and rustled the leaves gently. Elyse smiled as James began to mirror her movements, playing with the air, hesitating as the motion was brought to an abrupt end by James’ sudden clench of his fist.

_It’s a bad night. He’s having one of his bad nights._

“It’s empty out here. Kinda lonely,” she said quietly, and James gave a slow rock of his head in response but other than that said nothing.

“James? You okay?”

For a while it didn’t seem like he was able to reply. His eyes flicked this way and that, fists tightening and loosening periodically. But eventually he did speak, and immediately Elyse could hear the difference in his voice compared to normal.

“Being empty doesn’t make it lonely,” James said, looking around. “It can get lonely when you’re around people too.”

Elyse tried to meet his gaze but he seemed reluctant to look her way.

It was how it always went - yet it never failed to confuse her. He’d been okay, as far as Elyse could tell, during dinner, happy and carefree the whole day. But then just like that, click of the fingers. At bedtime he was somehow _different_.

“Do you ever feel lonely?” Elyse asked, and James tilted his head just enough to give her a quizzical look, blue eyes with an inquisitive glint. Elyse watched him as he turned away, silently sighing.

“Only around people,” he answered, head bowed.

“When you’re like… other James,” Elyse guessed, and James actually looked to her again and nodded. She held his gaze nervously, and after a while his expression softened a little.

“You like to read, don’t you Elyse?”

An inquiring expression faced her as James shifted a little closer.

“Yeah.”

James bit his lip and stared at her thoughtfully. “Nicki read me something once, when I first started seeing her: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” He paused, corner of his mouth twitching for a second. “I didn’t know what it meant back then, but I liked it all the same.”

Elyse didn’t really know what it meant _now_. It sounded like it was from a book meant for smarter people, like adults. She couldn’t even begin to try and piece together what those words in that order meant, and she was going to ask - to ask James what it meant, but before she could ask anything, he continued.

And more so than ever did he sound like a completely different person.

Someone older. Wiser.

Sadder.

“I’ve seen another world, Elyse,” he said pointedly, looking around as if he could see another place there and then. Elyse squinted as she tried to follow his gaze, tried her best to see whatever he saw. Trees, flowers, lights in the distance - nothing special. “Sometimes I think it was just my imagination, wish it was, it’s not like you can see it just by looking at it, especially if you don’t know what you’re looking for in the first place. But my heart knows… my heart knows what’s true.”

_You can’t see it just by looking at it?_ Elyse couldn’t help her expression of puzzlement.There had to be a simpler way of explaining - and she wouldn’t put it past James speaking in such vague terms deliberately.

“What world is that?” she asked, fishing for information. “Can I see the world too if I wanted to?”

“My own,” James said, and gave her a smile that reminded her of the ones the adults would give Jeremy sometimes.

“I’m almost the same age as you. You don’t need to worry about me telling or getting scared or anything.”

“I can’t tell you any more, it wouldn’t be right,” James replied, sounding like he was an adult talking to a child even _more_ than before. “It wouldn’t be fair.” 

“Why not? I’m asking you to tell me so it’s my fault if I don’t like what I hear,” Elyse said, carefully, and James actually paused and flinched for a second, regarding her with a more serious stare, something familiar yet still so foreign deep in his eyes. It was all getting rather confusing.

“Because I’d be taking it from you… something important,” he said slowly.

“Taking what?” Elyse replied, growing more perplexed by the minute. It always felt like they were going round in circles. James was talking about an ‘ _it_ ’ and a ‘ _something_ ’ like they were a lost arm or leg. But there wasn’t anything missing from him. He looked just the same as her.

“Something that you still have that I lost, a long time ago,” he said, a pitiful attempt at trying to appease her. “And I don’t - _I can’t_ \- be the one to take that away from you.”

There was a moment of very awkward silence in which James continued to stare at something Elyse was pretty sure wasn’t there, as well as having no idea whether the conversation was over or not.

“James…” she began finally, and James’ gaze snapped back over to her, and she steeled herself, lifting her chin. “I don’t care what you think. I want to know.”

“No, I’m sorry, but I can’t,” James replied immediately, and Elyse heard and saw the nervousness that had settled upon him.

“Fine. It’s okay.”

It came out flat, almost disapproving. She couldn’t help it. For someone who she saw as one of her closest friends in Rooster Teeth, it hurt to know that James didn’t trust her enough with whatever was hurting him so much. He said it was to protect her; that the only reason he wasn’t telling her was to keep her from losing something, but Elyse didn’t know how much of that was just a way of further protecting himself.

She remembered all those times… A boy so full of life and joy turning into someone ferocious and scared.

James stared at her, seeming to sense her frustration.

“You told me that your parents called you and your brothers and sisters, or at least certain things about them, evil,” he spoke up suddenly. “What if I told you I used to think I was evil? Not just that I was evil, but I was born evil. And that I’d always stay that way and that no matter what I did evil things would always follow me around.”

“What?” Elyse didn’t bother hiding her shock. “Why would you think that?” James couldn’t be anything further from evil. He was nice to everyone and he always wanted everybody to have a good time and be happy. How could someone like that ever believe they were anything but good?

“I can feel it, still. It’s in me. Something angry. Something dangerous. It wants to get out. It does, sometimes, you’ve seen it.”

His voice was flat and for a second Elyse wondered if he was going to flip - but there was no anger in the boy’s eyes. Just a mild sort of sadness.

“That’s not you being evil. That’s you being… I dunno, different, angry I guess, but not evil,” Elyse told him. “Evil people are scary and you feel scared of them. But I’ve never, ever been scared of you.”

“You haven’t?” James asked. It came out controlled but Elyse had seen his eyes widen a little, almost surprised. And a glimmer of hopefulness.

“Yeah,” she replied honestly. “You get more angry than some other people that I’ve seen get angry, but I think that just means you have more bad stuff that makes you get angry. And when you do get angry it’s never at us, even if it can look like that. It’s like you’re getting angry at… at something only you can see, and that’s why some people might get scared. But not me. Never me. You’ll never scare me cause you’re not evil.” 

“I know,” was all James replied at first, but something had relaxed about his face, and Elyse thought he seemed pleased. Everything she’d said was true. She might not fully understand his angry outbursts, but regardless, she would never see him any less for them.

After a moment he gave her a small smile.

“People helped me deal with that bad stuff over time, but it’s never quite gone, that little voice. I haven’t been able to get rid of it yet, and maybe I never will. But as time goes on I think maybe I’m okay with that. If there’s one thing seeing another world has taught me it’s this,” he said, a little harshly. “People who say that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. It's people who say that they're good, or any way better than the rest of us, that you have to watch out for.”

Elyse thought of her parents.

“I think you’re right,” she agreed.

“Anyway, it’s stupid to split people into good or bad. People are either idiots or they’re alright.” He gave her another small smile, a shy one. “You’re alright, y’know that Elyse.”

“Thanks,” Elyse said quietly. “You’re alright too.”

“Yep, I’m working on it,” James remarked with a grin, and though it was good to see him cheerier again, Elyse couldn’t help what she said next.

“James…” she sighed, and James’ grin dropped at her tone. He looked at her, and her eyes softened, pleadingly. “You’re my best friend. I… I think you’re the first best friend I’ve ever had. I used to think that was my older brother, but then I realized I didn’t really know him, not all of him. He kept some of himself hidden even if he thought he were just protecting me.”

“If you’re saying that then I can’t be your best friend either,” he read between the lines, voice monotone. “I’m keeping stuff hidden too.”

“Your other world,” Elyse said. And then, as James turned away, “But you’ve told me about it. I know it exists. That’s something - I just - I want to know more. I want to see what you see. Whatever it is I still have that you’ve lost, I don’t want it anymore. I don’t care how good or important you think it is. If it means we can’t be best friends, real best friends, I don’t want it.”

James froze. When he turned to Elyse, he looked disbelieving - and frightened.

“You won’t see me the same –” he warned, and Elyse was a little taken aback by the sheer disdain in his tone.

“Yes I will,” she earnestly replied. “That’s… that’s what you do for people who you care about. You give them a hug and tell them you love them even if they don’t think they deserve it.”

She didn’t know if she would have continued to argue if James’ frown hadn’t turned softer then, but he did relax, before he reached out suddenly and latched onto her hand with his own.

He bowed his head and took a few deep breaths, Elyse sitting quietly beside him.

James had been insisting to her all this time that she didn’t want to know anything, but she knew better than that. She’d known him for, what, less than six months? But already he was someone she felt extremely closely connected to, and something was telling her that getting whatever it was off his chest, would only do him good. No matter how frightened he may be.

She just had a sense.

And James, a confusing picture of jaded maturity and childlike fear, seemed to finally give in to her, like he was releasing a breath he’d been holding for far too long.

And so in the cool early night, in the empty but not quite lonely space, his hand and his words grabbed her tightly, fingers intertwined gently with hers, and took the first few steps to bring Elyse to his other world.

“Something happened… a long time ago. It was back when I was living with my parents…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Finally updated again haha. Thank you to everyone for being so patient and leaving the nicest comments ever! Love you all <3


	17. Chapter 17

_“I’m glad you decided to not be a rocket man.” - Elyse_

 

Elyse stood outside on the driveway, a bag of bird seed in her hand. It was nearing spring - the little, feathered creatures were going to be nest building soon - she always liked to give them extra food during this time of the year, it was something she’d loved doing all her childhood. It was also an activity she could enjoy alone seeing as the boys always got bored too quickly. She liked being alone sometimes - time in her own company often felt well spent, and it had often been needed growing up in such large a large family - it could also be her time to reflect on what she’d learnt recently and what she was still learning, to go over everything James had told her about his other world and what happened for him to see it in the first place.

James had been right when he’d said he would be taking something from her and it had been a truly jarring experience just listening to him talk. But she wouldn’t take it back or change her mind even if she could, as horrible and confusing as it was for her to comprehend she would never give up her knowledge of the truth, as scary as it may be.

The worst thing really was when scary thoughts would creep into her mind or her dreams, she would only ever go on to imagine how much worse it must be for James -

_I’m only thinking about it. He lived it._

She blinked, there was the noise of two people arguing coming round the corner. She turned to find Trevor, strolling at a leisurely pace behind a very put out five-year-old, Jeremy to be precise.

“Jeremy? Where’re you going?” the man asked, rolling his eyes at Elyse as the two came to a standstill a few paces from her.

She smiled in response. She’d seen Jeremy earlier in his room, packing his clothes, a scowl on his little face as if someone had done him a great _wrong_ , and she would have gone in to check on him if Geoff hadn’t walked by and chuckled at the scene inside.

So instead she’d watched for a few moments more in amusement as the five-year-old scampered around his room, grabbing a random assortment of objects, including his _money -_ before leaving him to his thing, heading downstairs to ask Barbara if she could take some of the bird feed outside, which was where she was now.

“You wouldn’t stop ordering me,” Jeremy loudly complained. He stood defiantly with a scowl still on his face and his arms crossed tightly across his chest, rounding on Trevor who stood by passively. “And you wouldn’t stop, you… you just ignored me and carried on ordering me. So you… I’ve said this time and time again that I’m going to leave home and now I _really_ am.”

“Excellent. Where’re you going?” Trevor asked.

“I’m going…” Jeremy’s frown lifted for a second to be replaced by puzzlement. “To Spain in a beach - or maybe… India?”

Trevor nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Or… or the Grand Canyon,” Jeremy continued, swinging his arms around like he usually did when he was just making things up on the spot.

Trevor just nodded and smiled again, winking at Elyse over the top of Jeremy’s head. From what she could gather, he had most likely been trying to get Jeremy to do his chores, which was, well - James liked to say it'd be less fuss if they trained one of Gus’ dogs to make a bed and pick up toys - and today it was clear Jeremy was most certainly not in the mood to do any kind of manual labour.

“The Grand Canyon,” Trevor repeated. “How will you be getting there?” he queried.

“Train,” Jeremy declared. “The blue train.”

“Right. Have you got enough money?” Trevor asked - Jeremy pushed at the man’s knees in frustration of the latest question but couldn’t so much as budge him. He settled for scowling at the ground instead, scuffing his sneakers into the gravel.

“Rimmy’s got the money,” he said, shaking the orange bear in his hand.

“Rimmy’s got the money,” Trevor repeated back seriously. “And you’ve got your tickets all sorted?”

Jeremy glared up at him once more. “Tim has,” he said, referring to the little purple owl poking out of his backpack.

“Good! Well, here’s an extra bag I’ve packed for you, it’s got a sandwich and your favorite jacket in there,” Trevor said, happily, handing it over to the little boy. “Excellent! Well, that seems to be all in order then. I hope you have a _lovely_ time.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened.

“I’m really, really, really not coming back and I’m ser-wious,” he said, insistent. “I’m very, very, very telling the truth.”

Trevor nodded and smiled warmly.

“I know.”

Elyse followed them as he took Jeremy by the arm and walked him towards the front gate. She watched, taken aback. Trevor seemed to be playing along with this game further than she expected - and Jeremy was hardly able to recognize that - he was probably thinking he really was being allowed to simply leave home.

Then again, she remembered, Jeremy had threatened to do a lot of things when he’d been in a bad mood. When he really wanted to get his way, he would often climb out of an open window and threaten anybody nearby that he was going to jump, screaming and shouting as he gripped onto the ledge. Sometimes it worked - most of the time the other kids just told him to get on with it.

And then he would - and for some reason the whole process of acting like he was about to fall to his death from a one-foot drop usually calmed him down, like Burnie said, he suspected it was Jeremy’s way of releasing excess energy or frustration. Like how a little kid might have a tantrum in a store, except Jeremy always had to add that little bit extra dramatization. Once it was over, one of the staff or Geoff would take him aside and talk to him, explaining that was not how you got your way in life, all very calm and a far cry from how her own parents would deal with any ‘bad behaviour’, terror being the main tool they had.

Jeremy’s eyes lit up as Trevor waved goodbye at him, and he glanced back and forth between the home and the open gate.

“I’m _definitely_ not coming back.”

“I know,” Trevor said, still totally happy, almost overjoyed about the whole situation, continuing to wave as Jeremy made the first few steps out of the gate. “Bye!” he called out as the boy turned around the corner and disappeared behind the wall.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Elyse asked, now bouncing over and hugging the young man around the waist, pulling a face as he grinned down at her.

“Oh yeah, he’s done this before,” Trevor replied, casually. “What he does is he just stands down the sidewalk a bit and waits. It’s fine, he’s scared of the main road, you see.”

“Y’know he emptied his money jar?”

“Yeah that’s all part of it,” Trevor chuckled, and ruffled Elyse’s hair as he lead her to the gate. “C’mon let’s take a peek, you’ll see, he’ll be just here.”

Elyse had a look for herself, sticking her head out around the wall.

_Huh._

Her eyebrows rose and she looked up at Trevor, but the man was already flying past her.

“Come away from the road!” he demanded. “Jeremy stop it. I know you’re very strong but you _will_ lose a fight with a moving car!”

“Thought you said it was fine?” Elyse smirked as Trevor came back a few minutes later dragging a very smug looking five-year-old.

“Ha-ha,” Trevor said, out of breath and red in the face. He turned to Jeremy. “Go to your room. Stay there. Do not think you’re getting away with that.”

Jeremy just beamed up at him. “Okay!” he agreed, skipping away.

“I think I almost killed Jeremy,” Trevor stated, staring after him. “And that little monkey knew exactly what he was doing - that’s it, I’m over. I’ve been bested by a five-year-old. I can never call myself a carer again.”

“Don’t worry I’ll back you up if this goes to court,” Elyse said, solemnly.

“A conspiracy?” Trevor replied flatly, before his eyes twinkled. “I like that idea very much.”

Elyse met his eyes and then both of them started laughing, although Trevor’s seemed more out of relief than amusement at the actual situation.

“What would you do if you got fired?”

Trevor pulled a face as he moved to pick up a stray soccer ball wedged under a hedge.

“I’ve thought about it. I mean, not the fired part, I hope that never happens. But if I were to choose a different career… maybe I’d go back to what I was planning to do before.”

“You were gonna build rockets, right?” Elyse asked, and Trevor glanced over at her, smiling. There was a funny look in his eyes - had a kind of distant feel to them. “Why would you choose this over something so cool? Didn’t you like it?”

“No, I liked it very much, even if it wasn’t all about building rockets. I assume James has been exaggerating again,” Trevor replied, but couldn’t help but shake his head, fighting not to smile again. “It was fun and challenging and I enjoyed it but, at the end of the day, Rooster Teeth just called to me, and I couldn’t ignore it.”

“But _why_ did you want to work here instead?”

“Why did I work here? That’s a good question, Elyse,” Trevor murmured, and dropped the soccer ball to the ground, kicking it between his feet gently. “I was in foster care myself, not for long, I was one of the lucky ones who got sent back to their family and it all worked out. But the home I did get sent to during that time was, let’s say, not the best.”

Elyse could only stare at him. After a moment, despite herself, she smiled. It was like all the clues she had noticed finally made sense, that Trevor with his ever understanding words and patience and empathy was the way he was because he’d _lived_ through it. And she’d heard him and Geoff laughing about how Trevor was basically their big brother - jokingly - but finding out this seemed to actually make it feel _real_ all of a sudden.

“Not like Rooster Teeth,” she eventually said.

“No, not like Rooster Teeth at all.” He’d meant it to be light-hearted, she could tell, but it came out as sad more than anything, and Elyse walked up to him. “Luckily the times have moved on a bit since then,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Elyse mumbled, and did the only thing she could think of and gave him a hug.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for little lady. It was a long time ago, almost twenty years now,” Trevor reassured, managing to laugh a little as he hugged her back. Elyse started to try and think of something to say to take his mind off things, only to pause.

“But it can still hurt, can’t it?” she asked, and the suddenness of it seemed to take Trevor aback - his face freezing in a way that, for a moment, revealed a pain Elyse recognized well. Something different too, something more, a pain that came from memories of both the reason he was put into a kid’s home and the kid’s home itself, she thought. How unfair, to think that a kid could be taken away from someplace bad only to be put somewhere just as worse, if not more, by adults who said they only wanted to help. She thought of all the times Trevor had helped them with their homework, or sat with them after a bad dream, or simply just played and mucked around with them, and she wondered if anyone had done the same for him when he was young and living in a strange new place.

“Sometimes,” Trevor eventually said, short and whispered, eyes still having that haunted look about them. “Sometimes it hurts.”

Elyse looked up at him, and then took his hand in her smaller one. “If you ever want to talk, you can talk to me,” she insisted. “You always talk to us and try and help when we’re hurting so it’s only right if we do the same for you.”

Her bright voice faltered a little at the end, and at it, Trevor’s face softened. He gripped her hand back tightly. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a very sweet young girl?” he said, a smile twitching at his lips.

Elyse grinned, nodding. “Yeah, a lot of people actually.”

Trevor laughed. “Right.”

“Only since coming here though, before that it was just my older brother.”

“He sounds like a good kid.”

“He was… he _is_ \- I think.” Sometimes it was hard to know what was going on with him. He wasn’t the same brother she remembered, but that change had happened before they’d been put into care. He was in a special type of home now, she’d been told, one that could help him better. He didn’t speak much during contact, and he wouldn’t play with her or their siblings, and sometimes he wasn’t even allowed to turn up. Sometimes the adults who looked after him didn’t think he was up to it.

“Do you think he is?” Trevor asked, regarding her carefully.

She didn’t even need to think about her answer. “Yes,” she said, firmly. She knew that, even if no one else did.

Trevor gave a small, single nod her way. “Then he is, and I wish him the very best in overcoming all life has thrown at him.”

“I think it’ll take a while,” she replied, voice small.

“It does,” Trevor agreed, crouching down and placing her hand on top of his, covering it with his other. “But believe me when I say there’s always a way. No matter how dark everything might seem right now, there’s always light to be found.”

Before she could think of a reply, Trevor was leaning forward and wrapping her in a hug again, so quickly that he almost lost his balance. Elyse leaned her head on his shoulder, a wave of calm rushing over her.

Knowing that Trevor truly believed in his heart what he was saying, and taking that hope into her own.

She realized that _not once_ had she felt so connected in any way like this to her parents. She supposed she had respected them at one point. But that had been a respect born out of fear and training since she was old enough to listen and be punished for anything less.

Not once could she remember finding comfort from them, or love. Not once could she remember going to them when she was sad or needed help. She hadn’t trusted them enough for that, never had, even after nine years living under their roof.

But here with Trevor, one young man she’d known less than a year; she didn’t think she’d ever found an adult she trusted more.

She tilted her head back, met his kind eyes, and gave a small, warm smile. “I’m glad you decided to not be a rocket man cause you’re really nice and you always look after us and play with us and listen to us and you make way better meatballs than Gus,” she told him.

Trevor appeared surprised for a moment, but then his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Highest compliment I’ve ever received, Elyse, highest compliment I’ve ever received.”

_I mean it_ , was all Elyse could think, as he stood up and made his leave to get back to his work, still kicking the soccer ball between his feet.

Elyse followed behind slowly, thinking perhaps she’d try and find James and Adam to see what they were up to. Like with Trevor, the last thing she ever expected to find coming into a children’s home was two new brothers. But now - at this time - she could no longer picture a life without them, any of them.

No. No matter what happened, even if her old one never got back to how she wanted it, the family she’d made here; she was certain she’d keep them forever.

 

––––

 

Burnie was just finishing up his phone call with the office when Gavin appeared, having been engaged in a rather heated debate over whether or not they would be expanding again any time soon.

Gavin dragged one of the bean bags he kept in the corner over and sat on the floor next to his desk. He sat back and tilted his head up to Burnie, listening curiously as the man tried to wind things up, an expression that Burnie often felt meant he was storing away every single word. He suspected that there was a slight fascination to watching Burnie at ‘work’ compared to how he was with the kids, perhaps even a confusion, for it was still very hard for the youngest ones to fully grasp that the home was technically part of a company.

Burnie let them know they didn’t have to worry about any of it. But he knew a few like Bruce and Gavin were actually interested whenever Burnie had to talk business, finding some degree of satisfaction by learning exactly how this whole madhouse was run and funded, how they kept the wheels turning. He was used to Gavin sometimes coming in and silently watching him, just himself - but today, it felt like Gavin wanted something other than a break from the others, a slight intensity to his gaze, prompting Burnie to think he was going to need to take a break from calls once this one was over.

“You didn’t _sound_ like you wanted them to have a nice day,” was his first remark. “I can tell. You said it like you were trying too hard.”

“Well, you know me better than most. And even if I don’t particularly care how their day goes, it’s just a polite way to end a conversation. I might not have agreed with everything they were saying or asking of me, but at the end of the day, we’ve both got to make the effort to maintain a professional working relationship.”

“They wanting to know when we’ll be adding more rooms to this place, huh?” Gavin asked.

Burnie looked to him with a tired smile. “Basically.”

Gavin was a bright one, a lot due to how much attention to detail he paid, far more than most kids his age. Burnie imagined the young boy could guess even the specifics of the conversation, if he thought hard enough. Not an impressionist or character performer like Michael or James could be - more someone who could really just get inside a person’s mind and really get to know them, like he could slip inside their shoes and become them.

It wasn’t a skill Burnie had been witness to many times. He wasn’t sure if Gavin didn’t like to use it or simply didn’t know when he was doing it in the first place. Really, the only reason Burnie had spotted it was because the young boy, as concerned for the others as he could be, would often come up to Burnie asking what was the matter with a certain child before Burnie was sometimes aware there was a problem himself.

Something of an empath. Perhaps. Not quite able to understand all the reasons behind the others feelings, but able to just _feel_ all the same.

Gavin had told him there were some days in his past where all he did was people watch. He wondered what Gavin saw in him right then, as he sat looking up at Burnie with a searching expression, before opening his mouth.

“Can I ask you something you don’t want to answer?” he asked.

Burnie blinked, then tilted his head, confused enough that his previous thoughts slipped from his mind.

“Why couldn’t I answer?”

“Not _can’t_ answer. Don’t want to.” Gavin chewed at his lip, looking away.

“I’ve always said you can ask me anything and I’ll try to answer best I can,” Burnie said, and Gavin looked up again, something strange in his face.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t ever ask. It’s because you didn’t ever tell me anything in the first place. I didn’t have questions before cause I didn’t know I should have questions. But now I do.”

_But now I do._ Those words sent an uncomfortable shiver down Burnie’s spine. He didn’t like that they sound so… so… _wrong_ , coming out of Gavin’s mouth.

“Well, you have me intrigued now,” he said, and swiveled his chair to face Gavin properly. “Go on then.”

“I know when you got me you had no idea who I was. And I know I wasn’t very helpful cause I didn’t want to talk or nothing - when all those strange people started asking me questions I didn’t like it. But now you do know things. Things that I’ve told you that happened to me, what my parents made me do - the tests and experiments. You said you never knew why they would do that. You said that they were probably very sick people who should never have been allowed to look after a kid. But what you never talked about was… you never told me about the others.”

“The others?” Burnie asked.

“That I’m not the only kid who’s been found with parents like that,” Gavin replied, very helpfully. “I mean - there’s others like me who’ve been found. Others - others my age or younger and some older. Others who’s parents made them do tests like I did - made them do stuff that was scary or hurt or they didn’t _want_ to do. And it’s not just here, is it? There’s been kids like me everywhere, one in England, France… some even in Australia. There’s probably even more who people just don’t know about cause they haven’t been found. And there could be more, like, ones who haven’t even been born yet. It’s all part of the big thing. There’s something bigger that’s been going on. And you’ve known about it but you haven’t told me anything. But now that I know anyway I wanted to ask you some stuff.”

_Wow, okay._

“What exactly are you talking about Gavin?” Burnie asked slowly. “And where has this come from all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden,” Gavin replied. “It’s just that I didn’t really have anything to ask before, cause I thought you only knew what I already did. But you do know more, don’t you Burnie? People have called you in the past and you’ve spoken about me. I’m not mad. But I want to know more now. I just want to know more about everything. You could just give me their numbers if you don’t want to tell me anything and then I can call them myself if you want.”

“Uh - I'm sure it’s nothing you need to worry about, Gav. They were just fishing for information I couldn’t provide, if I remember rightly” Burnie said.

“But that’s not true cause they were asking questions about me. And you’re not me. You don’t know if I could help.”

“Gavin, that has nothing to do with you,” Burnie snapped, harsher than he meant. All this had struck him out of the blue, wondering how on earth Gavin knew about those calls - _why_ he was so demanding all of a sudden - what had got into his head that made him think Burnie had been hiding anything from him; he guessed he _had,_ but only because he’d dismissed it himself as unnecessary. More stress and worry for a boy that had already been through too much.

“Of course it does!” Gavin protested. “It’s _my life_. It shouldn’t be up to you. Don’t you think I should get to choose if I want to talk to them? I bet I could help them. Haven’t you ever wondered why my parents did what they did?”

“I’ve wondered a lot of things late a night, yes, but there is no answer you’re going to find by talking to strangers. These people were just trying to make connections between similar cases, but they had no solid evidence. They were just fishing.”

“But what if I _could_ help? My parents weren’t good people, and they were probably very sick. But they still had their own reasons.”

“There’s nothing to find, Gav,” Burnie insisted. “The only people with the answers are your parents themselves. And seeing as they’ve never been located, it doesn’t seem like you’ll ever be able to know everything.”

“So you think I should just give up?”

Burnie pulled a face of exasperation, hearing the challenge in the question.

“Not give up,” he replied, softly. “I’m proud of you. I am. I just don’t want to see you going back to where you were. I want you to carry on moving forward like you have been. You’ve been doing so well, you can see that.”

“How many kids?” Gavin asked. “How many kids do you know that are like me?” he added when Burnie only stared at him in confusion. “How many kids did they tell you had been found with parents who did the same stuff to them like mine did to me? How many of them understand?”

Burnie had no idea what Gavin meant by ‘understand’, but he presumed he was just asking if any of the others kids had any answers. They _didn’t,_ Burnie knew, all these kids were just kids who had mentally ill parents that hurt them both physically and emotionally. But there was nothing that linked them. The few researchers who had called Burnie up could provide him with nothing that made him think any of the cases were connected to Gavin’s.

“Ten or so, I don’t know,” he told Gavin. “Just kids who’ve had a terrible time who happen to be in similar circumstances to you. I understand, really I do, but as far as I can see the only thing connecting all of you is that you had parents who should’ve been given help a long time ago.”

“So you didn’t tell me because you didn’t think it was important. And you didn’t think it was important because it didn’t make any sense to you.”

“And these so-called researchers have been doing the rounds harassing other care workers. I’d already been warned about them, they’re just trying to stir up trouble,” Burnie sighed. The conversation was going round in circles. Gavin was clearly and maybe rightly annoyed that Burnie had kept him in the dark on this one. But really, Burnie hadn’t seen it as an issue until this point. He had journalists, academics, whatnot, call up from time to time. Nearly all of them he dismissed quickly - these were kids, not show pieces or items to be studied. “Wait, how do you even know about the calls? No ones contacted you, have they? Don’t lie to me, Gavin.”

Gavin bit his lip, seeming to remember that the calls he’d been asking about had been private after all. He looked away, blank-faced.

“I guess I just heard somehow,” he said. “And anyway, you always say I’m the best at seeing people, at seeing what’s going on with them. Maybe I always knew you’d been keeping stuff from me.”

Burnie blinked, a little taken aback. It should have been his first question, before he’d got cornered into this. How did Gavin know about those calls? He was sure the only other person who knew was Gus, and he trusted his friend hadn’t been babbling to Gavin about it.

“When I first got here, you thought I was weird. Everyone did. Then when I told you what happened you just thought I was a normal person who’d been hurt. But what if I’d rather people think I’m weird? What if I’d rather be someone different instead of just someone who’s been broken?”

“What d’you mean?” Burnie’s head shot up at the seriousness, and Gavin flinched.

“Nothing… it’s nothing… I guess, I’ve just been thinking more lately. And I’ve been thinking out loud more, like Michael always does. You should be happy, right? You’re always wanting me to be louder and speak up more.”

“Gavin - I don’t,” Burnie struggled as his train of thought curved this way and that, trying desperately to read between the lines, if it were at all possible. “I’ve never seen you as anyone but Gavin, this incredible, brilliant, amazing boy in my life. You’re Gavin and you’re special and I love you for you.”

For a moment it seemed like Gavin was almost going to burst into tears. Burnie saw his lower lip tremble and his eyes widened and stared unblinkingly that they started to glisten. Burnie didn’t know what to think, his immediate visceral response had to banish away any ideas the seven-year-old had about being broken or in any way less than the other kids - but there was also the concern surrounding the whole topic of conversation.

_How did he know about those calls? Or about the other kids? Is there anything else he knows? Did I do the right thing?_

Eventually Gavin sniffed and turned away, his eyes dropping. “You don’t even know who I am.”

Burnie’s mouth opened to argue, but a moment later, the full force of Gavin’s words sunk in, and he frowned a little.

Who he was…?

He was a kind, loving, and joyful boy, with a quick mind and an infectious sense of humor. That’s who Gavin was. That’s the boy Burnie had had the pleasure of living with and getting to see grow. But that’s not what Gavin was saying, not what he meant right then.

Who was he then?

A boy. A boy they’d found. A boy who they didn’t really know anything about; his birth date, where he was born, _who_ he was born to. A mystery boy.

No, in that sense, Burnie really didn’t have a clue.

He watched as the boy stood up, picking up the bean bag from the floor.

“I’m gonna go play.” Gavin’s voice was small, subdued - but his anger had faded. Like all of a sudden he had grown too tired to hold onto it here.

“Gavin, I think we should talk some more.”

“Why?” Gavin replied, glancing back slowly. “You don’t have any answers that I want.”

“Gav –”

“My name is Gavin Free.”

Burnie’s throat tightened in shock. His eyes widened.

“What?” he said slowly.

Gavin, stood by the door, lifted a hand to brush fingers against the dark wood of the frame. “That’s my name. Gavin Free.” He let out a short hum, and gave Burnie a look that he couldn’t place. He shrugged his shoulders at the man’s own puzzled expression. “I guess I remembered.”

Burnie’s stomach flipped and his head felt fuzzy. Everything felt a bit like a dream. “You’ve only just remembered this now…” He shook his head, trying to clear it, but all he achieved was shifting his glasses slightly out of place. “How do you know you’re right?”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed, as did his mouth, and he thought about it for a second. “Musta just heard them say it once and stored it away in the back of my mind.” His small body relaxed at someone else approaching, face quickly switching to a grin as Gus appeared at the door. He gave one last glance back at Burnie. “What I hear, I keep,” he told him, in a voice that almost didn’t sound like his own.

“What was that all about?” Gus asked the moment after Gavin brushed past him and he found Burnie staring blankly - he’d gone so far as to grab his bag to go home, when a look of concern came across him. “You alright?”

Burnie swallowed, it not doing much for his dry throat. “You remember those calls we had a while back? Guys asking us for information about Gavin and his case?”

“You mean those fucking loonies?” Gus asked sharply, a lazy, mocking grin on his face. Burnie thought to glare at him but it wasn’t a complete jest; they hadn't exactly been professional in their manner of gathering information.

“He… knows about it somehow,” he said, and Gus froze. “God knows how. But he just came in here pointing a finger at me, telling me I’d been hiding stuff from him, wanting me to give him these people’s contact details so he could help them.”

“What?” Gus said, stiffly.

Burnie raised his arms up in a sign of exasperation.

“Exactly.”

“And he didn’t tell you how he knew?” Gus asked for clarification, regarding Burnie carefully when he nodded. “Think we need to do a room search?”

“No… I don’t think that’s the best idea right now. But check all incoming mail before they get their hands on it, just in case someone is talking to him.”

“Will do.” There was a certain relaxed tone to Gus’ voice that made Burnie wonder if he was thinking too much into this.

But then a second thought flared up - perhaps the most worrisome of all, the one that was sure to keep him up that night as he mulled over it again and again.

“There was another thing,” he began, rubbing at his temples. “He said - I mean - he told me his name was Gavin Free. Gus, he said he remembered _his_ _name_.”

“You gonna check up on that then?” Gus asked casually, and Burnie stared at him, surprised.

“You don’t find that weird? Him just remembering out of the blue like that right after everything he’d told me?”

“Maybe,” Gus said, leaning his lanky frame over Burnie’s desk. “But these kids tend to have vivid dreams, who knows what they remember from them. Wouldn’t be the first time one of them’s had something come back to them, although this is the first name we’ve had. Michael remembered the name of his neighbors cat he used to feed once, that’s the closest I can think of off the top of my head.”

“Maybe…” Burnie murmured, almost taken in by the nonchalant way Gus seemed to be dealing with all this. “Shit, either way I’ve fucked up somewhere with Gav and I don’t even know where or when.”

Gus snorted, and Burnie tilted his head.

“Maybe,” the other man retorted mockingly. “Or maybe it’s fucking hard to look after eleven kids who all want or need attention twenty-four seven.”

Burnie startled. The blatant truth rang in his ears. Gus always did have a habit of getting straight to the point.

“Do you ever think we’re not up to this?” he asked - recited, almost, for it was a question he’d asked himself many a time over the years, both in his head and verbally. Doubtless, everyone in their line of work had at some point. Now though, Gus was not having any of it, and he pulled a face as he picked up a pen from Burnie’s desk and pointed it assertively at him.

“Hell no. I’m fucking awesome at my job. And you are too,” he declared. “Although that doesn’t mean we couldn’t do with the extra help…”

At Burnie’s look of “this again?” he took on the defense. “Hey, it was only a suggestion - you’ve gotta admit getting a few extra guys around would be great. We’re already pushed to our limits and that’s with Trevor spending most of his days off here,” he continued. “Just bring it up with the Bossman at the next meeting, what harm could it do?”

It wasn’t that simple and Gus knew it. Hiring new staff, for any care home really, but especially for a private one, took time, and money, but mainly time that came with all the training and interviews and trial periods. Time was not something they could trade lightly, even if it would pay off in the long run.

“That doesn’t solve this issue with Gav,” Burnie pointed out, and Gus scoffed.

“No, but it could be something to think forward to. And anyway, you’ll think of something, like you always do. You forget, I’ve known you for twenty years now, and I’ve never known for you to give up and cry about a problem. Not Burnie Burns, he doesn’t run from his problems, leave that up to good ol’ Gus.”

Burnie didn’t answer him, just looked at him as a slow realization dawned on his face, and Gus let out a groan. “ _Fuck_ , we’re _old_.”

“I hear ya buddy,” Burnie replied, half smile forming as his friend trudged towards the door. “And thanks,” he added.

“Anytime,” Gus said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now, if you don’t mind I was just coming up here to tell you I’m gonna go home and get drunk while playing WoW. Peake’s covering me for tonight.”

“Yeah, I know, get outta here already.”

Gus grinned, nodded, and then left him be. Burnie stared for a few moments after the door shut. He honestly didn’t know what he was going to do now, as in what work he was going to do, if he was just going to jump straight back into what he’d been doing before Gavin came in - what had he been doing anyway? Oh yeah, calls to the office, Gavin - his boy, his mystery boy - someone who he loved very dearly, who had suddenly seemed so different - Burnie didn’t think he would be able to concentrate on anything else today, least of all certain higher-ups in social services.

Subconsciously he’d already pulled a blank piece of paper before him and now he grabbed a pen. His hand felt stiff as he wrote the letters down:

_Gavin Free._

Burnie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them and traced a finger lightly over the dried black ink. The name almost _danced_ back at him.

“Alright then,” he spoke softly, tapping once, twice more over the name. He could feel his control slowly reemerge from where it felt like it had been slowly dripping away through his fingers like water. Gus was right. He never was one to just sit around and wait for things to fall into place

“Alright then, Gavin Free,” he murmured again. “What secrets do you hold?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter up! Sorry these take so long, started working two jobs now so have even less time to write. Anyway, I'm still keeping at it and love to anyone who's still reading haha!!!


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